


Carry My Fears as the Heavens Set Fire.

by saltygay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aka the riddle's moved to england and tried to fit in by changing their last name, Bipolar Harry Potter, Bisexual Blaise Zabini, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bisexual Pansy Parkinson, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Magic, Desi Harry Potter, Desi James Potter, F/F, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Good Malfoy Family (Harry Potter), Grooming, Harry Potter is Not the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Japanese Pansy Parkinson, KINDA again messy, Korean Daphne Greengrass, Lesbian Daphne Greengrass, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Morally Grey Harry Potter, No Bashing, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Parselmouths, Part Veela Malfoys, Sane Tom Riddle, Slytherin Harry Potter, The Potters Live, Underage Drinking, Unrealistic Depiction of a mental hospital, Vietnamese Tom Riddle, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), ima quit here there are only two token straights in slytherin okay i wont be here all day, in second year, kinda. i think maybe., kinda?? uh its messy, so he's half vietnamese thank u, the potters are not white im not wrong, the war is messy everything is messy, this is the first hp fanfic ive ever wrote and its just me saying i refuse to listen to jkr, wait no thats wrong absolutely albus dumbledore bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 76,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28410840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltygay/pseuds/saltygay
Summary: The matron, coincidentally, is possibly also the reason Hari feels the need to always look her best. She had always been desperate to present a perfect image. Or, at least, the best image she can with such limited funds. But maybe there was just something fundamentally wrong with her that caused her to spend days talking to herself in a mirror to practice accents and smiles and posture. Hari likes to blame the matron.(or, Harini Potter goes to Hogwarts with no idea who she is but knows that she is going to change the wizarding world regardless. She also knows that she really quite hates Adrian Potter.)
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort, I have decided on our endgame baby, James Potter & Severus Snape, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lucius Malfoy & Harry Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy & Harry Potter, One Sided Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, Tracey Davis & Harry Potter, baby got a crush okay (harry is NOT baby), background Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 92
Kudos: 308
Collections: The Harry Potters





	1. Don't want to find I've lost it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this is in fact my first every harry potter fanfiction. I've been in a harry potter fanfic hole for months now and via never having read the books, loving magic, and hating jkr with a deep burning passion I decided to actually try writing it. 
> 
> I want to make it clear this is NOT a bashing fic (unless you count Dumbledore, we're all gonna beat him like a piñata.) James and Lily had just suffered a traumatic event, were very young, and got taken advantage of by a man they trusted. I'm gonna try to redeem them as time goes on but they won't simply be forgiven by anyone. I also don't wanna fall into the trap of having Adrian be a terribly spoilt little brat, he's got a big head because of dumbledore but he's also not to blame for anything even if Hari does hate him. 
> 
> There's going to be a LITTLE exploring of dark and light wizards and blood prejudice in later chapters. I won't lie, first year only takes place over five or so chapters because things actually move when we hit second year. I will definitely make mistakes regarding Hogwarts so please let me know if you spot anything. 
> 
> Finally ! I took inspiration regarding parselmouths from samvelg and the fantastic fic "The Historical Importance of Runic War Warding in the British Isles."
> 
> After posting this initial chapter I went back and combined it with what was going to be chapter two when I realised just how short it was when cut in half. I didn't vibe with that AT ALL so now it's all in one chapter and first year once again covers only around four chapters.
> 
> Content warning for an explicit reference to child abuse near the end of the chapter.

Hari would like to think she looks rather well put together considering she had been rushed to the station (reluctantly, at the very last minute) that morning. The matron refused to fork out too much for Hari’s so-called sin leaving her with a cheap robe but she’s had years to get used to the matron giving her as little as possible, so she had made some of her own alterations. The same way she made alterations to salvage her blouse and skirt which are both rather faded in colour.

She will be better next year, of course, because this was her first effort in working on a school uniform. It’s a silent vow she makes, to practice and be better, because she’s spent most of her life telling herself to be better. This year she settles on just embroidering some small and simple ravens across the breast so she might take pride in something.

What others think of her second-hand clothes means nothing to her yet because she doesn’t even try to talk to anyone on the train. Quite simply, they mean nothing to her when she has a book on wizarding society to consume. She had snuck back to Diagon Alley for it and she would rather finish it before even trying to establish herself. It’s why she doesn’t speak to any other children on the trip to the castle either, not even when they wait outside large wooden doors alone.

Hari watches and waits and keeps a tight hold on what she now knows to be her magic. That’s difficult when no less than three different people accidentally tug on her hair and were she among muggles she would have swiftly retaliated. Her hair, like all things hers, is important enough to demand some degree of pain in return. Hogwarts, unlike the muggle orphanage, would never let her get away with retaliation. The time and effort she put into it on the train be damned apparently, the braids are tight to her scalp even if the buns themselves are messy as is typical with her hair and she had been incredibly pleased with herself. Maybe that’s the effect of the matron constantly trying to vindictively cut her hair short.

(The matron, coincidentally, is possibly also the reason Hari feels the need to always look her best. She had always been desperate to present a perfect image. Or, at least, the best image she can with such limited funds. But maybe there was just something fundamentally wrong with her that caused her to spend days talking to herself in a mirror to practice accents and smiles and posture. Hari likes to blame the matron.)

Two boys are so loud that she half wants to snap at them, one red haired and one raven haired, and she bites her tongue to keep herself from doing that as they yell about trolls. How could someone be raised in the magical world yet still be so incredibly dull?

A dark-skinned boy catches her eye, doesn’t speak a word but nods sympathetically, and it helps to know she’s not the only one who isn’t staring at the boys excitedly. It must be an age later that a _professor_ finally steps in, an older woman with greying hair and sharp eyes that command silence and respect, and announces it’s time to go in.

Hari has devoured another book on Hogwarts itself, but she isn’t quite sure what to expect so she hangs close to the back of the group and observes. See, Hari observes because she has moved through too many homes to count in her life and she will never relax or settle until she has enough information. If someone were to ask when she’s ever known enough to relax, she wouldn’t be able to answer.

She needs to observe the houses and study them now to know how to approach whichever one she ends up in. Maybe she will need to use violence on her housemates or maybe she will be able to charm them. Charm never actually worked on the muggles but, in her experience, they were always too busy hating all that was different. And, well, Hari had always been a different girl. For one, she never actually cared about the difference between love and fear.

Observing clues her into the way there is little applause for students sorted into Slytherin but the hall explodes with applause for Gryffindor’s. Hari understands plenty about prejudice without even needing to ask so she doesn’t, she lets her attention be caught by the (mildly) interesting fact that the annoying dark haired boy shares her (old) last name.

She takes note of him, cataloguing his features, and dismisses an immediate family connection. The boy has brown eyes, dark hair, and skin that’s a few shades lighter than her own. A cousin, maybe, because logic dictates they’re certainly not siblings. The possible blood connection doesn’t make her like him at all, in fact the over the top applause when he’s put into Gryffindor immediately annoys her even more.

Dwelling on it isn’t an option because her name follows immediately after and she doesn’t think a single person breathes when the professor calls ‘Potter, Harini’ from her scroll. Hari approaches the chair with a frown and stops before sitting down, “Sorry, professor, it’s just that I haven’t been Potter legally in over five years. It’s Gerard now,” she keeps her voice light, polite though quiet, and the woman pauses for a moment before nodding.

“Harini Gerard,” the woman corrects loudly for the hall and so Hari is a little happier when she sits. She’s less happy with the way that the hat is far too big for her and covers her face though she does wonder how old it must be by now. ‘ _I’m very old child_ ’ the hat chuckles in her mind, and the weight of that ancient voice weighs heavily on her, ‘ _I confess I’m not quite sure what to do with you, no one thought you would be coming._ ’

The admission makes her frown, hidden under the hat thankfully, ‘ _I sent a letter back_ ’ she thinks as loud as she can ‘ _oh, child, I apologise for how you’ve been treated. I can see the clues in your head and you’re so close to connecting them but I’m sure you will be told soon_ ’ she didn’t think a sentient hat could sound so full of sorrow and it makes her shiver slightly ‘ _There is only one house that will protect you_ ’ it continues as if that helps her any (she has never needed anyone’s protection.)

“A mind like this will achieve great things – better be Slytherin!” The hat shouts for the hall to hear and it takes until the professor removes the hat for a tentative applause to start. It only comes from Slytherin table. This is nothing new, people not knowing what to do with her, so she walks over to it confidently despite her silent confusion.

Professors are staring at her, ‘Adrian Potter’ is staring at her, why is anyone staring at her?

She’s tempted to ask someone in her new house but quickly decides against it when they’re all currently pretending she doesn’t even exist. Hari mentally groans but she’s done hundreds of dinners by now with people who hate her guts so she doesn’t let it affect her outwardly.

The dark-skinned boy is the last to be sorted and he hesitantly sits across from her and she feels him watching her the entire speech where she learns there’s two new professors also named Potter. “Is muggle studies compulsory? I don’t want to waste my time when I already know too much about them,” She asks him and he (Zabini?) looks surprised for a moment but it’s gone quickly.

“Thank Merlin, no. It’s an elective from third year onwards to teach about how excellent muggles are,” Zabini tells her quietly and Hari is completely unable to stop herself. She laughs, quick and bright, “Just how delusional are they?” At least four people around them look at her confused and helpless for a moment but Slytherin, as she’s learning, is full of people just smart enough to present a mask to the world.

When food comes she only marvels at how free and plenty it is until everyone starts plating, so she takes a (very modest) portion of veg with little meat. She wonders if she can make requests to someone because she has never been good with heavy foods. It means she’s one of the fastest to finish and she returns to her book until her _magic_ tells her there is someone behind her. She’s well practised at not flinching when the low male voice comes from her back.

“Miss…Gerard, the headmaster would like a private word. I’ll be escorting you to the common room afterwards.” She peers up at a tall, pale, man only to nod and pat herself down of non-existent dirt before she dares follow him. 

.

James Potter has been half mad since the girl stepped out of the crowd of remaining first years. All angles, dark hair, and glowing green eyes – if he had even thought to look then he would have recognised her immediately. She had been utterly impassive at nearly all times and completely unaware his heart was shattering.

Dumbledore had told them again and again that the girl was a squib, that Voldemort had stolen her magic like he had tried to steal Adrian’s life, but his little girl is sitting among snakes and utterly oblivious to who he was anyway. Merlin, she looked more like him than Adrian did, though she looked most like his mother, Dorea, had in her prime. The true difference was the scar that claimed half of her forehead, stark and pale against her skin, lightning that cuts into her eyebrow and onto her nose. Dumbledore had claimed that the mark left behind was evidence of the old dark magic which had apparently stole hers.

James wishes he never listened to a word.

He sits in Dumbledore’s office, holding Lily’s hand tightly, but he can barely speak a word through his anger. Anger at himself, at the headmaster, at the entire world and, of course, at Voldemort. Lily keeps squeezing his hand, but he can’t even return the gesture, he’s too busy waiting for Severus Snape to lead their daughter in.

When he does, James marvels again at how small the girl is. Short and scrawny under the robes, judging by the open front, and there’s a tiny smattering of freckles on her nose that he hadn’t noticed over the distance in the hall. Taken from Lily, like her eyes, clearly.

Despite what Sirius has claimed over the years, it really hadn’t been easy to give her up all those years ago. It had just been so…hard, after Samhain. The little girl that had been so lively before then had simply stopped, had become so quiet, and the wizarding world had refused to leave them alone. There was no time for them to get away and process because the minister wanted to thank them, and the public wanted to see the boy-who-lived and they were stretched so thin between the twins. Dumbledore had repeated over and over that she was most likely a squib and neither of them could feel her magic in the same way so they could hardly object and claim they knew better. He had sworn she would be in danger if she couldn’t protect herself, it would be so easy to hurt her to get to Adrian if anyone wanted to retaliate for Voldemort’s demise. Petunia, Dumbledore had assured them, was the best option and there was no magic to set her off: what could she possibly hold against a squib?

Oh, _Merlin_ , but there had been, hadn’t there? And Harini is sitting there so small and wearing old robes and showing absolutely no indication as to her thoughts (he catalogues, numbly with years of Auror training, a bandage on her hand and bruising on her wrist.)

“Would you like a lemon drop, my dear girl?” Dumbledore asks but Harini eyes the bowl cautiously like it might jump out to bite her. “No thank you, sir, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth,” she shakes her head, words threaded with an accent he can’t pin but he’s sure isn’t natural. “Sorry, sir, I’m just wondering why I’m here? I don’t believe I’ve broken any rules?” She asks then, ever so polite. It’s not the kind of polite Adrian turns to for the minister or the kind he himself used to use to throw suspicion from the marauders. It’s the kind of polite Sirius had used around his relatives, before he knew that he had people on his side, out of fear of consequences.

James digs his free hand into the soft arm of his chair.

“Don’t worry, Harini, you haven’t done anything wrong,” the headmaster assures her, but it doesn’t seem to ease her at all. “I prefer Hari, sir,” she interjects, and James resists the urge to repeat it aloud. She was always Rini in his thoughts, he should probably practice getting used to the new name seeing as they sent her away in the first place. It’s only fair that they adjust to her chosen identity.

“All right, Hari, to start – are you feeling alright in Slytherin? I noticed you weren’t talking to anyone and, while it’s unusual, we can arrange a resort if you don’t feel safe there?” The offer sounds kind but Hari rears back slightly regardless and he knows Snape must be sneering at the veiled insult to his house. “I feel perfectly alright in my new house, sir. I talked to…Zabini, I think, but with everyone staring I didn’t really want to push my luck with the only people who weren’t,” there’s a surprising amount of force in her words, less polite and more angry, but that slip is smoothed out when she quickly speaks again. “The matron doesn’t like noise during meals so I’m in the habit of not making conversation at mealtimes. I can’t blame my housemates for the fact I didn’t try to talk to any of them.”

Matron. On some level he knew, he did, that for whatever reason Rini – Hari – didn’t live with Petunia anymore. The change in her last name had made that clear rather quickly. But he hadn’t expected an orphanage, because that is where she must be.

Dumbledore coughs, just a little awkwardly, “that is actually what I asked you here for, Hari. What do you know of your family? Your parents, your aunt and uncle?”

Hari blinks, clasps her hands in her lap, and her eyes are sharp enough to show she is putting it together on her own. “Not much, sir. The matron doesn’t really share those things and especially not with me. If you could be mortal enemies with a sixty-year-old German woman then I would be,” her tone remains light and a sly smile curves her lips, but James is seeing red.

“But the only way to sneak out after curfew is the window in the matron’s office. She nailed all of the windows below the fourth floor shut except from her own and she only locks the door after her nightly cigarette. Someone broke their arm climbing out of a third-floor window two years ago, you see, so she took very strict measures. Well, it was me, though in my defence I didn’t think the drainpipe was quite so rusted as to break. But the matron also keeps all the files of current residents in her office and if you time it right you can take your file for an entire night without her noticing. Which is to say I stole it, read it, and returned it, so I’m no thief.”

If James wasn’t so horrified he might have laughed at the faux innocence in her voice as she mentions her rule breaking habit.

“There wasn’t much in there, though, sir. My aunt and uncle took me to Wools when I was…four and refused to provide their names but told the matron that they didn’t have the resources and I’d been unfortunately dropped on them because of a tragic car accident.” She turns back to impassive, the smile gone, and James knows he hates that already because even just a hint of a smile had given her so much life rather than this practiced mask.

“That never should have happened, Hari, and I truly apologise. I’m sure you’ve guessed by now there was no accident,” Dumbledore says, and the girl tilts her head slightly in curiosity. “You see, when you were a baby, there was a terrible attack against your brother. It’s what caused your scar. Afterwards, we believed you had lost your magic somehow and determined to send you to your aunts to keep you safe.” It feels rather like beating around the bush to James when it is as simple as they screwed up and she suffered for it.

“That was a terrible mistake, but I am so glad we can fix it now. Your twin is here, as you can guess, and I am sure Adrian would like to meet you soon. Your parents are both here as well to answer anything you might want,” somehow that feels too blunt for him, like Dumbledore is trying to absolve them of their deserved guilt and move on quickly.

“We’re so sorry, sweetheart, we are but – but we can try. We can try to start making it up to you. I’m sure we can get permission to show you our home and get a little time in Diagon one weekend. You could even spend some time in our personal quarters getting to know each other tonight?” Lily suggests breathlessly, her green eyes are so bright with unshed tears, and Hari turns her green eyes down to her clasped hands.

“I’m so sorry Rini,” James chokes the words out through the guilt in his throat, the first words he’s been able to speak since the feast, and he feels no better for it.

Time feels like an eternity for him, the way it stretches out before she looks back up, even if he knows it can’t be more than a few seconds. Dumbledore would never resist filling such a long silence himself. There are no tears in her eyes and there’s no anger either, he thinks that makes it all feel so much worse.

“I’m quite content with what I have now, thank you. I don’t know you at all, really, and I’ve already had nineteen foster families. The Wools record for my year is twenty right now and I don’t want to match it,” the message is loud and clear – they’ve thrown her away once, what is to stop them doing it again? He wishes she had shouted at them; it would have made it easier.

“My dear girl-” Dumbledore tries to soothe her, and James wants to tell them all to just let her leave, give her the space she deserves after what they’ve done to her. When he catches Snape's eye, he thinks his once rival is thinking much the same.

“The Jensen’s,” Hari cuts the old man off without much fuss at all, “I was seven, a glass broke, and I got the blame. It probably was me, in hindsight, or at least my accidental magic. It wasn’t particularly fancy at all, even Wools had a few like it, but I was back at Wools two days later with a broken rib and some stitches after a brief hospital stay. It taught me a few things I’m rather proud of, honestly. Being ambidextrous, for one, because I couldn’t use my right thumb for a month. And how to spot this…special kind of apology. The fake kind. The kind where people say they made a mistake but actually they knew what they were doing would hurt and they did it anyway, so the mistake was just getting caught and they’re really just sorry for facing the consequences.”

She smiles, all teeth, even if her voice doesn’t waver even once, “forgive my bluntness, sir, but clearly you’re just sorry that I do actually have magic and you actually have to deal with me.” There is a resounding silence, tension thick in the air, and James feels rather like his mouth is full of cotton.

“I think it would be best if I escort miss Gerard to her common room. It’s getting close to the first year’s curfew regardless and she should meet her roommates” Snape steps in coolly and James has never in his life felt so happy to hear the potions master speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small note. It's referenced but Hari acts this way because she's used to being alone among muggles and being different. She's never felt safe so she is constantly wearing a mask and has even convinced herself that she doesn't need anyone and can look after herself (she can't). Also I want to make it very clear that the horcrux is very much active and influencing her and it has been for a while so as well as her own reaction to trauma, she has tom's uptight ass in her head making it even worse.


	2. Blood stains the Coliseum doors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hari establishes her place in Slytherin and James Potter has many regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This technically isn't that long but this is the chapter that is going to start the VERY strange friendship of Severus Snape and James Potter. It's entirely based on Hari making Snape need firewhisky and Snape deciding James should not be allowed to escape this suffering. I actually really enjoyed writing this one the most because it's giving Hari the chance to actually be on her hot girl shit and James is getting a jump start on his midlife crisis. 
> 
> Hari/Tracey is not going to be a ship BUT Hari has effectively decided Tracey is hers now and the day she learns Crucio she's gonna go wild on anyone who has ever been mean to her. Hari's mental state is fucked and she doesn't understand what a friend is but she is going to remember that Tracey tried to look out for her and as such everyone should be terrified by this five foot tall child.
> 
> I will say that I hope no one hates James's characterisation here. I'm conflicted myself because he is very very aware of his own faults in this story and I'm not sure how accurate that is but I decided on this approach because he's had years of responsibility. Two of his best friends have abandoned him and called him out on what he did, and he's watched Dumbledore train his son to fight Voldemort to the death. He's not perfect and that's going to show in his interactions with Hari because as much as he knows he's in the wrong, his actions don't always show it. Similarly, his actions don't prove to Snape he's changed even if he says he has.
> 
> There are some references to torture in this chapter but absolutely nothing graphic and entirely off screen. Also ! I combined the original chapter two with chapter one after posting this yesterday if anyone missed the spectacle that was James screaming mentally. Anyway, this is an unbeta'd story and as many times as i've read over it, I will have definitely made mistakes.

The walk is mostly silent, but her head of house keeps glancing at her discreetly. Hari imagines he’s trying to get the measure of her, he had cut in very quickly after she had all but called the headmaster a liar to his face. Not that she would ever put it so bluntly, it would not have nearly enough style that way.

“If it helps, sir, I don’t have any plans to sneak out here,” she says when the silence goes on too long. Wools was never silent unless you were in the basement and Hari would rather screaming children fill the halls than be reminded of being there. She thinks he almost smiles.

“What about borrowing anything from my office?”

“If you mean test answers then I don’t need to cheat, sir, it’s hardly an ambitious move.” She answers him with a smirk and thinks she sees his lips twitch up for a moment.

The other option had been to sneer at the implication she would ever resort to cheating, something that was insulting to even consider after years of being accused of cheating by her peers when they could not accept how much greater she was than them.

She doesn’t think sneering at her head of house or voicing her thoughts would go down especially well.

The man finally pauses at a door that has a beautifully carved snake on the front “Basilisk” he says, and it opens so she mentally takes note of the password. She also tells herself to go and look for information about what Basilisk’s are. That is a project for later because she moves quickly to place herself near the other first years yet beside no one in particular.

Hari takes very careful note of the rules (no public fighting, no permanent damage, those will be important when she brings them in line), and she is mostly pleased to hear that Slytherin’s keep each other’s secrets. Excellent, for her, because if she is going to be under scrutiny then she will only be able to feel free in the common room. The moment she realised the headmaster was going to keep some attention on her, she knew openly despising muggles would certainly end in private visits to his office. How is she going to be the best if she has the man breathing down her neck.

But, then, what does she really have to worry about when the matron has literally been doing that her entire life?

Snape also informs the first years that they only have half an hour until they must be in their dorms – horrific, for her, and she curses Dumbledore and the Potters for wasting her entire night. With the departure of their head of house Hari expects her housemates would follow suit but in practice hardly any of them move away.

“So, instead of a mudblood, we just have the half-blooded spawn of a blood traitor,” a pointy faced blond boy drawls dramatically and Hari thinks that the boy could be literally crushed by some of the muggles who had tried to intimidate her. She had crushed them instead (not always metaphorically), so his effort is rather wasted. As it is, she raises her eyebrows and looks at him ever so curiously.

“Oh, we’re starting this tonight?” She asks, far more gently than she’s feeling, “I will ask you once not to associate me with the Potters. Do it again and I’m not sure you will like the consequences. I would rather be a mudblood than be grouped with the people who threw me aside because an old man told them to.” Her tight control over her anger slips, only a little, and it’s becoming exhausting to keep a tight reign on it when all she had wanted to do was wish the same kind of harm on all three of them in that office as she did the muggles at Wools.

“I’d rather not be made to lie to the old coot already considering he immediately tried to force a resort on me, insisting I wouldn’t feel safe here. Seeing as I can’t tell him I’m not the one in danger, give me at least a week before you start bothering me so I can at least claim I’m too settled into my schedule.”

Her housemates all look on with wide eyes and that annoys her even more. Had she judged her new house wrong at dinner? She would hate it if they are all fools too and dinner had just been an exception to the rule. Considering the blond is red in the face and no one else is speaking up, Hari turns on her heel and goes to find her dorm.

The room she finds is far nicer than her one at Wools so the fact it is shared hardly ruins her mood. It’s easy to unpack her sparse belongings and by the time her roommates arrive the only thing that differentiates Hari’s bed is the single photo on the nightstand and her trunk at the end of the bed. She doesn’t know the other two girls on the door (Pansy Parkinson and Tracey Davis), expected when she hasn’t tried to make any friends since arriving, so she doesn’t pay them any attention.

In fact, by the time her roommates are unpacking, Hari is already in pyjamas she had repurposed from some of the boy’s hand me downs and is brushing her hair out. The sleep shorts ride low on her thighs and the top is slightly too big to be comfortable, but she has a few years until she can afford to be picky. Neither of the girls talk to her while they unpack, and she combs her messy hair out so she can braid it again before bed.

“Is it true?” One girl says unsurely and when Hari glances up she notices the trunk labelled ‘Davis’ so assumes the girl is Tracey. “I haven’t lied to any of you” Hari responds simply, not pausing in her movements, and Pansy is glaring murder at their roommate. Maybe for talking to her at all or maybe for breaking the peace in the room, she isn’t quite sure which.

It does nothing to dissuade Tracey who doesn’t even look away. “I mean…did they really just throw you away? Cause, well, everyone thought that you were dead. After Samhain, I mean. No one talked about you, but everyone knew you existed because of the birth announcement and so purebloods had all seen it but…everyone assumed you must have died that night,” the girl blurts out despite Pansy hissing protests.

Hari pauses in combing her hair, her anger once again threatening to lash out, but she waits until she’s controlled again before looking the other girl in the eye. “They sent me to some muggle relatives and abandoned me. And those muggles proceeded to abandon me to even more disgusting muggles. Up until an hour ago I thought I was an orphan, so yeah, it’s all true,” and then Hari turns back to tying her hair into a fishtail braid.

The silence goes on until both her roommates are changed for bed as well and while Pansy still hasn’t spoken a word to her, Tracey speaks up again. “That’s – that’s really nice. Your hair. How do you do it? It’s just that we always use spells at home and I’ve never been particularly good at them.”

Hari, who has only just finished weaving the rebellious strands of her hair together, is absolutely stumped and imagines it must show in the way she looks up at the other girl. It goes without saying that Hari, isolated from the other children in the orphanage at the best of times, has never been asked for help or advice and certainly not for something so mundane.

She coughs, shaking herself out of her surprise. “It’s…well…I’ve always had to do it this way. It’s hard to explain but I can show you?” She offers unsurely but the girl grins wide and runs over to her bed despite Pansy’s exasperated sigh.

It takes nearly an hour to show the girl a quick braid for bed that works with her hair but even then, she procures a promise that Hari will help her do another one tomorrow. Hari supposes it’s just a good thing she hadn’t been planning on anything particularly intricate the next day.

.

It takes two full days for her housemates to try anything. Clearly, they ignored her warning, but she was expecting it and she is just a little happy for the opportunity. She’s been reading again, and all signs pointed to needing to earn your place if you weren’t a part of the pureblood circle already. Hari’s glad to get the opportunity, she’s never needed her blood to be better than everyone else and she quite likes to prove it.

Tracey, apparently a fellow half-blood, had tried to warn her to wait before going back to the dorms and while Hari doesn’t want to ruin her fun she also doesn't want to worry the girl, so she offers a smile and tells her not to worry. The girl doesn’t know that Hari has been waiting for this, letting her anger build up with no release considering the constant watch she’s under. It had been unfortunate that she had nearly blown her supposed twin into a wall when he had tried to talk to her, touching her arm, like an overexcited puppy.

So, Hari goes back to the common room earlier than usual, settles down with a book, and pretends not to notice her housemates as they gather in the room. Some run upstairs to wait it out, not wanting to see a child get tortured clearly, and she’s just sad they will miss the show. Most wait around the room, bloodthirsty and excited, and Hari feels absolutely nothing.

Not quite nothing, actually, because she does smirk when she sees Zabini hesitate before staying and feels a stab of something when he does meet her eyes.

“Enough,” someone says, not Malfoy this time, but a third year. She really should take more note of people, or at least her just housemates since they are all going to be hers soon enough. “We’ve allowed this to go on for too long - you need to learn to acknowledge your betters, Potter.”

Hari puts down her book, carefully marking the page, before she stands. “Sorry, but who are you?” She asks rather honestly but it makes him turn red. It has the effect she wants, of course, the disrespect enrages him in a way that should make him ashamed later.

“You sorry excuse for a half-blood!” He sneers but she finally decides _okay_ , that’s enough. Hari lets go of that tight hold of her magic and a few of her housemate’s gasp at the sudden oppressive force in the air.

“I’m afraid I don’t see any of my betters here. It would be awfully helpful, however, if the ones who were going to teach me this lesson identified themselves,” it was tragically easy to get Slytherins to make fools of themselves because, even though no one turns on each other, the overconfident purebloods offer themselves up anyway. Hopefully, they will thank her for this kindness later, she had spent years teaching the muggles at the orphanage this lesson but for her housemates she will make it quick and relatively easy.

Hari is rather nice in that way, she could easily torment them for a week to get the message across, but she doesn’t want to turn any of them into a wreck of a wixen. Not yet, anyway.

“I guess I’ve found the sheep then,” she sighs and puts to use the efforts of waking up earlier for two days in a row by using the spell that the portrait of a snake over the fire taught her. She hisses it in what she now knows to be parseltongue and grins at how very shocked her housemates are. The spell raises barriers on both exits only another parselmouth could bring down.

“I apologise, I’ve been quite looking forward to this. See, I grew up in this awful muggle orphanage and the muggles there were quite foul, but I did learn how to effectively deal with them. How to make them fear me,” her magic is excited, wild around her, eager to punish and teach. “The method will need to be tweaked a little, since we do not permanently maim each other here, but all sheep are the same. Different colours, maybe, but the same. And maybe, when we’re done, you’ll know blood is nothing in comparison to power.”

.

Hari sits reading her book, not a hair out of place, and wilfully ignorant of the whimpering and crying of the six Slytherins on the ground. Snape eyes her suspiciously while directing the efforts to move the students to the infirmary.

She does not know why he’s quite so sour, none of them were permanently damaged by the spell, she even made sure the nerve damage would heal within a few hours. He hasn’t earned her trust enough for her to even try and assure him they’ll be okay later but he’s a smart man, she knows he’ll figure it out soon. 

“Miss Gerard” Snape says smoothly, and she peers up from her book. “Do you happen to know what spell was used? As I understand it, you were present for the whole ordeal and I can’t identify what was cast,” he asks, making it very clear he knows that she is the one responsible without accusing her. Slytherin was a delight like that, conversations could be a minefield to navigate and no one would barge into an accusation they could not prove. She enjoys the never-ending game, the challenge of it, and the thrill of outmanoeuvring her opponents.

(And that is what they all are. Opponents. Ones that can easily get in her way, even her own housemates. The purebloods will one day want to get in the way of her plans because of their love of blood supremacy. They are hers for now, but she will not hesitate to treat them as her enemies outside of these walls.)

Hari smiles at him in the same way she smiles at the matron whenever the woman comes to blame her for everything wrong in the orphanage that day. She imagines it is not the most pleasant smile, it even hurts her cheeks, but she has practiced it plenty.

“Have you tried spells in foreign languages, sir? As far as I’m aware the ministry doesn’t even try monitoring those let alone properly classifying them.” She doesn’t think he likes her answer but he nods regardless and so she goes back to her dorm where neither Tracey nor Pansy speak a word to her.

.

James Potter does not expect a house elf to tell him that Snape wants to talk privately. Snape would, after all, sooner hex him than want to share a drink together (the fault for that, of course, is entirely on James himself and he has no delusions about it.) Maybe that is why it panics him because the man has not even tried to update them on Hari which isn’t helpful when his daughter does her equivalent of running away whenever she saw any of them.

(Her equivalent is far more refined than actually running away, of course, instead she has clearly spent time learning the nooks and crannies of Hogwarts so that if she even catches a glimpse of them, she can hide or duck into a crowd.)

Adrian was hurt, he knows, by the way she flinched away from him when he tried to talk to her and then asked him not to do so again. It wasn’t the boy’s fault; he was just excited to have his twin at Hogwarts after all these years of only vaguely knowing about her. James wishes she would talk to them so that he could tell her to please not take her anger out on Adrian when it was he and Lily who deserved it.

It does not stop him from rushing to the potions master’s office out of worry he has bad news regarding Hari. He doesn’t expect to find the man drinking firewhisky by the fire but maybe that’s because Severus Snape has never relaxed enough in his presence to casually drink. Another of his sins, of which he is finding there are many.

“Your daughter is going to finish the job and kill me, Potter” Snape sneers and James decides he is not going to be able to have this conversation standing so takes a free seat without invitation. If Sirius was talking to him, the man might have laughed at him for how cosy the scene appeared. Snape doesn’t snap at him for the liberty though, instead choosing to explain what had turned him to drinking so soon into the term.

“One Tracey Davis told me Hari might be in a spot of trouble in the dorm tonight. It’s expected, my snakes are cautious to accept anyone outside their circle for good reason” James, as always, struggles to decipher how the potions master feels but he thinks there is a hint of concern in the man’s voice. He does not dare comment on the absurdity of Snape caring about a Potter even if she rejected the name, he could only imagine the horror if it were pointed out.

(James is not going to forget it, however, and will be passing the information to Lily so she might hopefully tease her old friend in a way the man might accept.)

“Is she okay?” James asks, breathless with the worry Hari might be in the infirmary at this very minute, but Snape drinks again.

“Oh, no, instead I arrived at the common room to find no less than six whimpering purebloods while your daughter sat there reading away! If Davis hadn’t told me she was the target I’d have never thought she was involved.”

James Potter has two vastly different reactions to this information. As a father he is both proud and relieved, his little girl not only protected herself but put some mouthy purebloods in their place. How couldn’t he be proud of that? But James is also a former auror with years of experience under his belt and hearing this makes his instincts go wild.

“Did…did she use dark magic? Be honest with me, Snape, because I’ve never seen a spell that could have done that,” he can barely do more than whisper, scared of the answer might come. They’re not even a month into term, she’s only a first year, and he racks his brain for any other possibility.

Snape scoffs at his concerns. “No, it wasn’t dark. Don’t worry, Potter, she hasn’t been remotely friendly with anyone who could teach her things like that. It wasn’t dark but it was a spell I can’t recognise.” He won’t admit it aloud, but he would pay for a photo of the sour look on Snape’s face at the very idea of not being able to identify a spell used by a first year. “The damn girl told me to check foreign spells since the ministry doesn’t effectively classify those spells, all whilst pretending she hadn’t been involved at all. In effect, the spell will wear off in a few hours with no permanent damage and it’s not technically much different from a standard hex.”

James doesn’t find much comfort in that at all. It’s hard to find relief in the idea your pre-teen daughter is delving into spells the ministry doesn’t even bother monitoring, especially when he suspects she wants to turn those spells on him at times.

“Do you think they’ll target her again? Albus is still happy to offer her some measures of protection,” he sighs, taking off his glasses to wipe them against his robe, feeling far older than his years.

Snape laughs, which is a surprise considering James thought he might be insulted on behalf of his house, though it’s far from kind or pleasant. “Please, Potter, I doubt they’ll even sit at breakfast without her express permission now. She bested a sixth-year pureblood, among others, I dare say she’s safer than your son is among his housemates.”

Morgana help him, he’s been avoiding processing that emotionally. A Potter in Slytherin!

His father might have cried (as a Potter), his mother would have laughed (as a Black) and even a decade after their deaths he still does not understand how they had been such a perfect fit. The Potter blood had won out with he and Adrian but maybe the Black blood had simply skipped a generation and gotten Hari instead considering how much she looked like her grandmother.

Still, a Potter in Slytherin was as historic to him as Sirius being in Gryffindor had been to the Blacks. James would like to think he has been vastly more supportive than Sirius’s parents had been even if he waits with bated breath most days to hear of trouble. Maybe that is just the kind of worry a father is meant to have for his daughter and he feels it so intensely because of years skipping out on his duty.

“I know you agree with our decision about as much as much as Sirius and Remus did,” James begins, a quiet confession by fireside, and Snape’s face twists in regret for ever inviting James into his office. “But I do regret it. We both did - and do - and I have regretted it for years. I was a coward for not fixing it immediately and I cannot change it now so if she doesn’t want our help then that’s her right. But Sna – Severus, please look out for her. I’ll compensate you; I’ll give you anything.”

Snape looks at him with dark guarded eyes, probably suspicious, and James cannot fault his caution with their history.

“Why me?”

“Because, as much as it hurts me to admit, I imagine you’re the only person in this entire school she might dare trust.”

There is a long silence, only the sound of fire crackling between them, before the potions master finishes his drink and shakes his head.

“Fine, damn you Potter. But I don’t want your money, or your thanks and gratitude. Hari may be your daughter, but she is also one of my snakes and I’ll lay down my life for any of them.”


	3. Sinners come down and come gather 'round.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco Malfoy likes pretty girls who would murder him and Hari nearly gets eaten by a troll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (late) new year !! This was meant to be posted on new years day but it has been a beast to write and I have rewritten so much. But here we've got the start of Draco being baby, more of best boy Blaise, and Snape accidentally becoming a part time therapist. I adore mentor Snape but in this case it's more like he will be looking out for her without teaching her anything.
> 
> I know that the flying lesson here is a little early but I only made this mistake after committing to my timeline so we are going to overlook. I also put both the troll and flying into this chapter because I honestly didn't think either of them were long enough separated. 
> 
> As it is, I currently have an outline of what I want to happen in each year and where I want this story to end. I have a mental image of how I want fourth year to end and I feel like that will be a good place to end this and follow up with a sequel because the tone will veer slightly left. I will also probably set up an actual update schedule for when I'm done with first year.
> 
> Anyway ! Thank you for the kudos and comments, as usual this is not beta read and I am using the HP lexicon as a bible at this point. 
> 
> TW for mentions of child abuse and religiously motivated child abuse.

Hari has two reactions to the morning that follows her demonstration in the common room. Not concerning her actions of course, she had taken a strange kind of joy in correcting her housemate’s behaviour, and she has never lost sleep over teaching her so called peers a lesson.

No, she realises upon waking that she has her first and only class with one of her supposed parents and therefore no escape from dealing with _James Potter_. It had not been easy to avoid being in the same room with them and all her efforts were for nothing seeing as she was going to have to spend the class dealing with Adrian Potter staring at her while James Potter avoids looking at her at all.

Shouldn’t there be a rule that stops you teaching your own children – surely, they are too biased to be fair?

So, in reaction to that, she spends an extra ten minutes in the shower to curse every god she has heard of for doing this to her (she does not curse Lady Magic, of course, because she is not a fool.) Hopefully, her roommates don’t hear her over the running water.

Her other reaction that morning is of surprise. It is a pleasant surprise, unusually, because her housemates have all taken to showing her respect overnight and after only one demonstration. It helps ease her foul mood slightly. On some level she had known they would, that she had earned her place, but she had assumed it would be a grudging acceptance until she repeated her lesson on whoever would lash out next. Because there is no doubt in her mind that someone would get frustrated with the new order of things and challenge her again but for now the attitude among her housemates had flipped.

(Years of being shunned by muggles for her magic and brilliance has left marks on her, both physically and mentally, and not even magic can erase them. As brilliant as Harini Gerard is, those scars are fresh and raw and some part of her will always remain on guard for her peers to turn on her.)

Hari tells herself that this is just more proof that wixen are far above muggles.

Tracey and Pansy both wait for her at breakfast, her housemates make space for her to sit at the table, and a number of them take to following her like kicked puppies. She supposes that is not far from the truth, considering she had hit some of the first years with a milder version of the spell to help the lesson sink in. The other first years nearly fight over the seating arrangements, though it is all done through glares and their family standing.

Hari thinks that Professor Snape might groan into his coffee where he sits and watches from the head table. 

She grins, big and genuine, at Zabini when he does groans at the way Malfoy keeps looking at her with wide grey eyes yet flushes whenever she looks back. They have barely spoken a word to each other, but she finds that she rather enjoys the silent camaraderie they often found themselves in.

In an effort to keep her mind from the dreaded class, she muses over taking advantage of the way her housemates are acting now. Maybe she should build a following? She needs sources that are not books and she really should make independent connections now she has refused to accept the Potters. Not that blood traitors have many connections where she needs them. No, the Potters would not be able to give her the kind of foothold she needs in the wizarding world.

It will be easier to keep separate from them, she thinks, using their position would only make things more complicated when it came to her plans after Hogwarts.

Actually being in the class is far worse than she imagined over breakfast. Considering her imagination and how often it turns to the worse possible outcome, that is an impressive feat. She really should commend the headmaster on this accidental torture.

On one side, Adrian Potter keeps looking at her with big sad hazel eyes like that might guilt her into talking to him (maybe he would stop if she told him she is not even sure what guilt feels like?) and on the other Draco Malfoy keeps trying and failing to catch her attention.

Hari wonders if she accidentally broke the boy in the common room. None of the others were so persistent or desperate for her attention and they certainly did not turn red in the cheeks when she actually gave it to them. She would have to ask Luca if there were side effects to the spell, but she has never had to fix anyone before and can’t imagine it would go well if she tried.

Overall, Hari would quite like to return to her bed. Forcing a sleep schedule had been one of the only failures she had ever faced but maybe that is because she has spent most of her life refusing to ever establish one. Her spite towards the matron’s rules had come back to bite her now that she is actually wanted at meals.

Maybe she could ask her housemates if they knew any spells that would force her to sleep at an acceptable time so she might get rid of the traitorous shadows under her eyes.

Considering the fact that she had not wanted to attend the class at all, she’s rather happy to find that her broom jumps into her hand immediately, even if Professor Potter is quick and awkward when he comes over to correct her grip. A deeply uncomfortable experience for all involved in her opinion.

(She would be horrified should anyone tell her that James had done everything possible not to smile, feeling a pleasant warmth in his chest as he watched his daughter grow more excited as the class progressed.)

Hari is just starting to admit she is excited about actually flying when it’s disrupted and ruined by a mousy Gryffindor being unable to control his broom and nearly breaking his arm.

She nearly bites her tongue off in disappointment.

“Don’t be too disappointed, Gerard, the school brooms are terrible to fly on anyway.” Malfoy tells her from her left and Hari is certain she hears Zabini snigger a little down the line. He had obviously helped engineer her torture and she barely resists glaring his way.

She glances at Malfoy and the way he is trying to stand tall and puff out his chest. “I don’t think that was the brooms fault, Malfoy” she replies dryly and ignores both the sharp look she receives from Potter senior and wide eyes from Potter junior. Are they disappointed? It’s not like she’s wrong, you could not blame the broom for the boy being useless.

To Professor Potters credit, he keeps the class on task and quiet up until the headmaster comes to pull him to the side for a quiet chat. The class breaks into controlled mayhem immediately. Hari hears her name come up no less than four times, all from Gryffindor's, but she doesn’t have the mind to glare at them because her attention is caught on two boys blaming a Slytherin for the boy’s accident.

Did they think the girl somehow hexed him without two professors noticing while she was on her own broom?

But, more importantly, what Hari sees is the two boys snatching a diary from her while no one does anything to stop them. Something red hot flares inside her because no one is stepping in despite the headmaster being right there and she thinks of the time before she protected herself where the matron would just watch the older muggles push her around. Hari does not think or plan but finds herself striding towards the boys. Her housemates all move out of her way.

“Not very brave of you to gang up on a girl, is it? Whatever happened to the house of bravery,” she drawls, announcing herself to them, and the boys both flinch when their heads dart up. One of them looks behind her and she suspects it is towards Adrian Potter.

No one had raised the question of why she was the only Slytherin that has not been cursed in the corridors, mainly because she rarely had anyone with her to question it, but clearly, they have found their answer.

Someone else might have been happy or taken it as good will that their brother had warned his housemates away from attacking his long-lost sister. Hari just feels annoyed at the fact her blood does not think she can fight her own battles after a decade of looking after herself.

“Maybe you snakes shouldn’t attack us then,” one accuses and Hari, with raised eyebrows and irritation clear on her face, rolls her eyes. “Maybe the stereotype is right, and you are all simple,” both boys splutter at that, not quite sure of how to retaliate, and she considers asking if they need her to clarify what simple means.

“Guys just give it back,” Adrian orders from somewhere behind her, as if he is the authority here with the teachers gone, and she holds back a sneer.

“Stay out of this Adrian!” one of the boy’s spits just a moment before she, more refined, glances back. “This doesn’t involve you, Potter,” she does not care to see what his reaction is because time has taught her never to take her attention from her enemies for too long. These boys probably wouldn’t be capable of surprising her, but she prefers not to take the risk.

They might have tried to physically fight like a common muggle.

The other boy does sneer, looking down at her like she’s below him and Hari wishes she could teach him a lesson, “just like a snake, you can’t even fight your own battles.”

“Strange, considering you are the ones who needed safety in numbers to confront just one snake.” Hari doesn’t drop her mask or stop restraining her magic, but she keeps her voice low and mocking. “I like to take care of me and mine. My house is Slytherin, and so my housemates tend to fall under that which is mine. That is to say -” she smiles, teeth bared, the kind of smile she used to scare off the other kids from her things “- I suggest you give back that diary before I am forced to take it.”

The two look at each other, the rest of the class has fallen silent to watch the confrontation, and one of them folds quickly. She does not have time to take the offered diary because the other boy snatches it from the outreached hand first, “come and get it!” He yells and jumps on his broom.

Hari considers her options only for a moment but, for as much value she puts on reason and logic usually, she has always been utterly reckless when boredom or anger took over. She jumps on her own broom despite never having flown and follows him into the sky. “Is the house of the brave running away now?”

The taunt turns the boy as red as a Weasley’s hair and probably does not help her efforts to regain the diary much at all, but she enjoys it anyway. “How ‘bout you try and get it, snake!” And he throws the book as far as he can. He does not know that Hari has the tendency to put herself in the most ridiculous situations when she gets in a mood and he certainly does not expect her to take off flying after it.

Her experience on a broom be damned, she trusts her magic and her instincts to carry her safely. Her consolation prize if she breaks something can be raising a complaint that it was left to her to stop a case of bullying despite two faculty members standing within hearing distance.

James Potter cannot try to talk to her again if she breaks something under his watch, right?

What happens on Hari’s first experience flying is that she nearly splatters herself upon one of the towers and comes close to crashing into the ground below but, most importantly, she decides she loves the freedom of being in the air. She smiles so wide that it hurts and enjoys the way the wind whips against her face and her magic sings around her.

That is all hidden by the time she returns to her class with the diary in hand, they all crowd her, and she barely has time to give the diary back to Bulstrode (judging by the embellished name on the front) before Professor Potter breaks it up.

“What in Merlin’s name do you think you were doing? You were told to stay on the ground!” The man yells and Hari does not have the chance to so much as protest before Snape is walking up to the class.

“Professor Potter” he drawls, bringing Potter to a halt, “I’ll be taking miss Gerard, given that as her head of house I’m in charge of her punishment.” Potter looks mutinous, Dumbledore is watching with a curious look in his eyes that she hates, and Hari chooses to shrug and follow her head of house silently all the way to his office.

Snape watches her for a moment, stood behind his desk, and Hari clasps her hands behind her back. “I assume you have a defence?” He asks, and Hari only thinks about it for a moment, “two idiots decided to blame Bulstrode, I believe, for their housemate’s inability to ride a broom. They took her diary, so I asked them to give it back. One of them decided to take it to the skies and then to throw it away, I imagined that he most likely wouldn’t be punished so I retrieved it myself.”

She keeps it simple and to the point, she thinks her head of house would prefer honestly over childish protests. “Of course, should my word not be enough, I know all of my housemates can certainly attest to the fact I was just defending Bulstrode. Even Potter junior tried to intervene if the headmaster doesn’t hold our house’s word trustworthy enough.”

Something flashes across Snape’s face faster than she can take note or understand, “I believe you, miss Gerard, and I will do my best to negate your punishment.” Hari’s world rearranges itself and she cannot hide her open surprise because **he** **believed her**. With only her word, not a shred of evidence in her favour, he had believed her. When was the last time someone had done that?

(The answer, she knows, is never. Not the matron, certainly not the foster families, and never would a social worker dare.)

Hari curses her own vulnerability.

The door knocks and opens without invitation, she isn’t surprised that it is Dumbledore who had not cared for curtesy, and she spots Marcus Flint just behind him. Malfoy had told her his name over breakfast due to the quidditch captain being one of the purebloods she had corrected the night before and she finds that the older Slytherin looks suitably nervous when he looks at her.

No one had ever said that her methods were ineffective.

“Excuse me, Severus, but no punishment will be necessary. Her classmates were quick to attest to the fact she was acting in defence of another girl.” She wants to ask him how many Gryffindor's he had needed to believe it and she wants to call him out on having ignored the entire spectacle. She bites her tongue. “That was some remarkable flying, my girl, and for your first time on a broom. The Slytherin team is short a seeker this year, is it not? I imagine it wouldn’t hurt to bend the rules and make a new record for the youngest seeker.”

One glance at her head of house shows as much surprise in his eyes as she feels.

“I’d like to see her in the air first, but the team does need a seeker,” Flint says, and it takes a moment for her to realises they’re all waiting on her so she clears her throat. “I would need someone to explain the rules, but I’ll be happy to try,” Hari finds that she truly does not like Dumbledore's smile and the way it never quite reaches his eyes; she is rather sure he wears a mask around the school in the same way she does.

“Excellent! I will trust you with mister Flint until your next lesson,” no one speaks as the old man leaves, not until enough time passes that the old man must have passed down the hall, and she looks to Snape curiously.

“Sir, how unusual was that?”

Snape shakes his head, not disguising his surprise from his snakes, “very unusual, miss Gerard, very.”

.

Hari gets absolutely swarmed by her housemates at dinner to her utter dismay.

Bulstrode wants to thank her, Malfoy wants to know what punishment to protest to his father, and Zabini _delights_ in her quiet misery. Even when she hexes him it doesn’t dull his smile and, instead, he turns his yelp into laughter.

Hari, in response to all of the above, tries to drown herself in pumpkin juice. It’s a futile effort so no one is too worried, she doesn’t even think Malfoy would notice with the way he keeps talking, but she keeps trying.

Flint takes mercy on her in the end by explaining what happened but that only makes her suffering worse because Malfoy recruits Crabbe and Goyle into talking quidditch strategy while Pansy talks about the quidditch uniforms and how it will bring out Hari’s eyes.

Tracey, who may be the only good soul she has ever met, offers her own goblet every time Hari fails to escape the mortal plane and even plates some food for her. It is only because of Tracey that she doesn’t find an excuse to go back to their dorm and scream into a pillow for the rest of the night.

.

Every teacher says the same thing, she knows, they all say that she is utterly brilliant. Hari reads ahead in every class; she gives back essays early and outdoes what she is asked in class. Flitwick wants them to simply levitate a feather, so Hari makes hers dance. McGonagall wants them to transfigure a needle, so Hari makes hers incredibly detailed.

Harini Gerard is brilliant and everyone knows it because she makes sure to prove it.

Hermione Granger regularly glares holes into her back whenever she beats the girl with a spell and the muggleborn seems to be trying to spend more time in the library just to outmatch her. Between the jealousy and the fact that the girl is friendly with Adrian, Hari does not care enough to inform her that if she wants to do better then maybe she should foster a better relationship with Lady Magic.

Maybe Hari is just unique in that regard, in the way that her magic sometimes feels like another entity inside of her and its bonds are so very thin it could tear out of her and consume everyone whole. Not that she would ever let it happen, she keeps a hold over it and respects it so that it does as she pleases.

She doesn’t imagine that the years of blood magic she has been using has helped with how wild her magic feels but it wasn’t like Hari had known what it was. It had been instinctual and natural, fingers drawing out the symbols without even needing to visualise them, and she will never apologise for nor regret the way she has survived.

Harini Gerard is brilliant and every teacher gushes over the quality of the work she turns in and the results she produces in class and other teachers hope she will take their electives when it comes time to decide.

They all talk about how nice and polite she is, how she rarely breaks the rules and even if she does it is usually in the form of dry comments, and Hari knows this because she has been playing this game her entire life. The nerves caused by how little emotion she expresses are always worth the satisfaction of having people eat out of her hand.

This game of hers is why it is so easy for Hari to slip away on Samhain.

All she needs to do is tell Flitwick that she does not feel well, and he lets her leave early and the prefects don’t protest when she asks to be excused from the feast.

Hari spends the remainder of class walking the grounds, she sits in the astronomy tower for no more than half an hour, and by the time the feast is well under way she finds herself walking the dungeons. The routine is clockwork, she talks to Luca (the snake in the common room) for a short time and then walks the dungeons and repeats.

Luca was very helpful in return for her carving out time to entertain him. He had shared the spells he had seen in the common room over the years as well as parselmagic spells the last speaker had told him about. It is the easiest exchange she has ever made.

Had she been at Wools, she would have wandered the streets for hours and most likely been locked out overnight. It had always been a worthwhile trade to avoid the matron locking her in her room all night.

At least the dungeons were warmer than the streets of London.

It is the third lap of the dungeons when Hari realises there is a particularly foul stench in the air, and she cannot identify a source. No one would have set up a prank when no one was meant to still be down there, and she assumes that it must be something more insidious.

Hari knows that whatever it is, it is getting closer.

Hari also knows that she is too far away from the common room to make a break for it.

Hogwarts has more unused classrooms than she can count, and it has been one of her hobbies since arriving, from years of the magical population dwindling and choosing to send their children to other schools. The school had spent centuries as one of the finest institutes in the world and it was going to end the millennium with less than a dozen warding students and half of its curriculum axed.

When she thinks back to Hagrid telling her it was the best wizarding school in the world, she finds herself both disappointed and amused at the delusion. The British were quite good at that, in her experience, deluding themselves with the belief they were above everyone else.

Regardless, fixing Hogwarts is one of her many plans for changing the wizarding world when she leaves.

Back to the problem at hand, the dungeons possibly holds more abandoned classrooms than any other level of the castle and that makes it easy for her to change course twice to throw whatever it is off and still immediately find somewhere to hide.

Hari turns over a desk and kneels behind it, wand ready and pointed towards the door, waiting for whatever may come.

The wall shatters.

Her ears ring, dust fills the air, and she has little defence from the rubble that flies through the room. Half the wall is caved in and another almighty crash brings down more and reveals a troll that sends Hari retreating further into the classroom to put more distance between them.

With her heart beating so fast she can hear blood rushing in her ears, Hari launches four bright sparks of light from her wand and they explode like fireworks in the troll’s face. The eyes are weak, she remembers, and hindering its eyesight would probably be better received by the teachers later than if she simply tried to kill it using that weakness.

Perhaps her worries should not be on how the teachers will view her actions later when she is in danger of being eaten by a troll, but Hari had never claimed to have her priorities in the right order.

If the troll is blind, she can try to escape past it, and if its not then surely someone would have heard the noise to come and help.

Hari tries to run. The wooden club nearly hits her in a wild swing, and she has to fling herself to the ground to avoid that grisly fate. Out is not an option so she retreats to the far corner of the room and considers her options once again, but she is tired and foggy from the pain of bleeding knees and debris to the head.

She feels slow and panicked and follows her first instinct to buy time.

The system is simple: she risks magical exhaustion to levitate and fling the old desks and debris at the troll’s face to drive it back. If she punctuates these efforts with a few aggressive yells of “ _piss off!_ ” to vent her frustration and pain then no one needs to know.

As much as she would like some help, she does hope no one hears that, she had spent a very long time training herself to speak with a higher-class accent than the rough cockney one she had developed from her years at wools. Hari feels mortified at the very idea of the likes of Daphne Greengrass hearing her speak like that – or worse, Blaise Zabini.

If she were going to make followers out of her housemates, Blaise would never be an option. He had laughed at her only hours after seeing her (lightly) torture their housemates, as an ally he was fun, but he would make an insolent follower.

Hari is nearly out of furniture. The realisation is abrupt and startles her out of the draining routine she had started and still no help has arrived. What was wrong with this school?

“Fuck!” She screams as she flings the last chair available because the odds keep growing in favour of the troll that wants to eat her. The matron has wanted Hari gone for half a decade and it was going to be a troll that does the job.

“Language!”

Her head snaps up to dart around looking for the source like a meercat but immediately regrets it.

Forget the cavalry, the Potter’s had arrived.

Hari has never believed in a higher power, other than magic that is, because she has never been shown any proof to the contrary. As a logical and reasonable person, she is open to changing that opinion now because she cannot imagine her luck is this terrible. Perhaps her life fills the role of a stress ball in some cosmic beings’ life?

The arrival of one former auror and one all-around exceptional witch might have been enough for anyone else to relax. Anyone else might have let the exhaustion buckle their knees and take over their mind. Hari never claimed to be normal. The arrival of two authority figures, ignoring the fact they are her parents, gives her no relief at all and she will not dare stop forcing her body to remain standing until the troll is dead or unconscious.

Another wall cracks.

Hari curses herself and her stupidity aloud, she only stops to cast the spells she needs to, because she could have ended this so quickly if only she had used her brain. Hari transfigures the remains of a chair into a replica of the troll’s club as it is her only point of reference for a decently large weapon and she uses parselmagic under her breath to strengthen her creation.

The club flies at the troll’s skull with as much force as she can put behind it and the resulting crack makes both Potter’s pause in shock. The troll sways in place, its actual weapon falling to the ground where Lily quickly uses magic to move it away, and Hari decides that she is not going to be blamed for the troll flattening the two.

She uses the cracked and splintered replica to aggressively push the troll backwards and the floor shakes under their feet when it lands.

Hari, in turn, lets herself fall against the wall for support and barely winces at how hard her head connects to the cold stone.

“I really hate Halloween.”

Her complaint hangs in the air between them for only a moment before the Potter’s jump into action.

“Can you stand?” James Potter asks with naked concern and Hari closes her eyes to count to five so that she does not get ahead of herself and snap at him. “It would be news to me if I wasn’t currently standing.”

Lily Potter snorts quietly but with the silence in the corridor it is loud enough for all involved to hear.

“You need to get out of there quickly, the ceiling is unstable now and I’m not sure magic will be able to keep it up. Just be careful of where you step,” the woman advises, and Hari would like to walk straight to her dorm to sleep until morning before anything else can go wrong for her.

Weak legs barely keep her up long enough to stumble and climb out of the ruins that were once a classroom and Hari curses her traitorous body for giving into the exhaustion.

She does not hit the ground.

“I’ve got you, fawn. I’m just going to carry you to the infirmary, that’s all.”

Hari cannot protest before her world goes dark.

.

James Potter has, to put it simply, been living in his own personal hell for two months.

It had started with his daughter nearly killing herself over a diary only to show that she was a natural on a broom: she had broken a record, made Hogwarts history, and he could not even celebrate or tell her that he was proud.

(He could have.)

(James will not realise this for years to come but he has confused giving her space for ignoring her still and, to a girl like Hari, that implies he does not want to know her. Someone else tells her that he had played quidditch and her entire house celebrates and because he is too scared of her rejection, Hari assumes that they still do not want to be associated with her.)

For two months, he is told how brilliant and amazing she is and how she has a mind like Lily’s and raw talent like him. He watches, for two months, as his daughter becomes involved with the children of death eaters and he is constantly afraid of what they might be using her for.

What might finish him off completely, however, is nearly losing her completely. His heart hurts to see her so close but lost to him and yet that is infinitely better than not knowing her at all.

Hari is not at the Halloween feast despite everyone else from her house being present and James has not seen her without at least one Slytherin at her side since Snape called him to his office. There is something wrong.

Quirrell disrupts the feast with a declaration that there is a troll in the dungeons. His heart skips a beat. A Slytherin prefect runs to their table to tell them that Hari had asked to be excused and said that she would be in the dungeons. His heart stops.

It only starts again to find Adrian and make the (bravely stupid) boy promise to go back to his common room and stay there, James even entrusts him to Percy Weasley directly to make sure that at least one of his children were safe.

Loud bangs help give them a direction in the dungeons, and it is only the continuous sound of something breaking that helps them navigate the maze and –

“ _Fuck!_ ”

He recognises the voice even if the accent is wrong and next to him Lily reacts on instinct after years of finding Adrian and Ron giggling over curses the older Weasley boys had taught them.

“Language!”

It is not the time, not even remotely, but between that and how Hari looks around dumbstruck, James can barely restrain himself from laughing.

Their priority is to get rid of the troll and, considering more than twelve years as a part of the Order of the Phoenix, it is not a task that worries him at all. That is not to say that James thinks it will be easy, but it will be far easier than it would be for an eleven-year-old.

What happens next is that James hears a low string of muggle curses –

“- Stupid! Fucking slow! Absolutely **idiot**!”

\- as well as a spell he cannot make out before he sees a club heading straight for the troll’s head. One glance confirms that Hari is responsible, and he wonders if, somehow, she had read his mind and taken offence to the idea it was easier for them.

He would not be surprised, he decides when he sees her use that same club to push the troll backwards, if she had simply done it out of spite.

“I really hate Halloween.”

He looks up, looks at her where she is leaning against the wall, and takes note of the way her face it dirty with dust and blood in much the same way as her knees are bloody and bruised. Merlin knows he wants to rush in there, to pick her up and inspect her and carry her straight to Madam Pomfrey.

“Can you stand?” He asks, and it never crosses his mind to hide just how worried he is because no matter what has happened, she is still his daughter and they were nearly too late. Hari doesn’t respond for a few seconds before, bone dry and still accented, she says, “it would be news to me if I wasn’t currently standing.”

Lily snorts and he glares at her playfully for only a moment before the trained healer in her jumps forward again because Hari is still in a dangerously unstable room. “You need to get out of there quickly, the ceiling is unstable now and I’m not sure magic will be able to keep it up. Just be careful of where you step” Lily advises and James waits to run in or assist magically, ready for whatever comes.

James Potter had been an auror for a decade, he has fought in so many battles they haunt his dreams, and he has seen trained duellers collapse at the end of those battles despite being loud and joyful only a moment before. This is to say, James knows Hari is going to fall and he is ready and waiting when her legs give out after climbing over the remains of the wall and he catches her.

“I’ve got you, fawn,” he whispers as he pulls her into his arms because he knows she won’t be able to walk. “I’m just going to carry you to the infirmary, that’s all,” James knows, from his irregular and only semi-informal late-night chats with Snape, that Hari hates unexpected contact as much as she hates being treated like a child and he can only try to not overstep.

Lily looks the girl over quickly, barely touching, before looking up at him with bright green eyes, “she’s out.” He adjusts her in his arms which is remarkably easy considering she is barely five foot tall and weighs absolutely nothing (he will worry about that more later) but her head easily rests at the cradle of his arm and he has to tear his eyes away.

“Merlin!” McGonagall’s shocked gasp is startlingly loud, and they turn to find the heads of houses and headmaster have found them. Quirrell, he amends a second later, is hidden just behind Dumbledore but that is fine because he has yet to feel comfortable with the man.

Not that he can put his finger on why but there was something about the way the defence teacher would look at Adrian, and even Hari now that Slytherin practically bows to her, that makes James want to punch him.

“Is miss Gerard okay?” Flitwick asks with a deep frown that lends substance to his theory that Hari had quickly become one of the man’s favourite students. “We’re going to take her to the infirmary now – I imagine she’s magically exhausted herself fending off the troll for as long as she did,” Lily explains seriously but her green eyes rarely leave Hari.

Dumbledore looks strangely unhappy in a way James can only recognise from fighting for him in the first war. “We’re lucky that you both arrived when you did, clearly. I dread to think what might have happened otherwise, and we will have to ask her what possessed her to be down here alone,” the man tuts and James, a man who has always lacked restraint, cannot hope to stop himself.

“Actually, Hari was the one to bring down the troll. As far as I can tell she transfigured a weapon to hit it with and even guided its fall.” Lily casts him an unamused look for his blatant boasting on their daughter’s behalf but it’s worth the surprise on their faces.

Most of their faces, Snape does not try to hide the way he rolls his eyes, “I suggest you get miss Gerard to the infirmary lest Poppy scold us all for delaying.” McGonagall turns ever so slightly red at Snape’s suggestion, though she is not the only one. James and Lily are left to take Hari alone.

James manages to hold his tongue until they leave the dungeons but there is a small smile on his lips when he whispers, leaning into his wife ever so slightly, “Cockney.” Lily looks for all the world like she would like to elbow him even if she cannot hide her smile.

“You can’t tell me that you were expecting that” he protests with a light-heartedness that he doesn’t quite feel with his unconscious daughter in his arms, that he cannot feel when all he can think about is how light she is in his arms.

Lily’s smile, however, falls when she looks to Hari again, “she looks so young, James, like she should.”

He looks down at the girl in his arms again and his wife was right, of course, under the dirt and the blood she looked like the child she was. Her face is drawn into the tiniest of frowns and tucked into his chest and James hates himself for ever choosing to live in a world where he did not get to carry her around on his shoulders and hold her close.

“We really messed up with her Lils,” he whispers, voice thick because all he feels is guilt and regret, and she squeezes his arm lightly. “I know, James, and I’d do anything to take it back. But…we still have our amazing little boy and – and we can try to get this brilliant girl back” Lily tells him gently and he nods even if he doesn’t quite believe it.

“I just really hope we can.”

.

Hari had been told, once, that she was an angry sleeper. It would be hard to say they were wrong, not when upon waking she tries to leap up and grasp for the shard of glass she keeps under her pillow.

Lily Potter is half stood over her. “Calm down,” the woman tries to soothe but Hari just thinks she is lucky that there is no glass under her pillow because she is stood far too close. Should anyone point out that this was the inherent danger of keeping a sharp weapon so close, someone could die for waking her up, Hari would have to point out that was the entire reason she did it.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now, you’re in the infirmary,” the woman continues but Hari’s magic tears at her for the assumption that she might ever be safe because she has been told that lie too many times not to know the truth: she will never be safe.

The thinking part of her brain finally takes over, helps to smooth herself out, and finally take note of her surroundings. James Potter is talking to Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey quietly and she suspects that Snape is somewhere around as her head of house but her half-asleep outburst has gotten their attention and drawn them over to her.

Damn.

Madam Pomfrey places a goblet on the bedside table, a stern look to her face that seems natural there, “miss Gerard, I wasn’t expecting to see a student who had exhausted themselves quite so thoroughly until exams.” Hari, not quite sure how to respond, blinks twice before the words come to her, “sorry, miss, I’ll try not to make a habit of it.” She apologises because her brain is foggy, and she is more focused on keeping her painfully practised accent in place.

The medi-witch sighs, “I hope not, now I advise some more rest, but you are free to go. Though, do drink up before you leave.” She almost feels bad that she does not plan on listening to the advice at all so, to sate the woman, drinks from the goblet.

Hari chokes on it, face contorting in disgust at the taste, and can barely keep down a mouthful. “It’ll help” Lily Potter says but Hari is rather sure that the woman is amused so it takes quite a bit of effort not to glare.

“I find myself most impressed, Hari, to hear that you were the one to defeat the troll. I’m not sure if you’ve been taught about them yet in defence?” Dumbledore smiles but she thinks he’s fishing for information even if she doesn’t understand what. “I read ahead, sir, because I like to know I’m not at risk of falling behind in any of my classes.”

She pauses to put the goblet back, as far away as she can without it tipping over the floor. “I read that troll skin is resistant to spell work but, well, I was a little panicked, so I didn’t figure out a solution until it’s attention was away from me. I am sorry for all the broken furniture as well,” she explains but doesn’t even try to make the apology sound real.

Dumbledore laughs, a quiet breathy chuckle, “that’s quite alright, my dear girl, I’m just happy you survived the encounter. Though it does beg the question of why you were in the dungeons alone in the first place?”

Hari had known this question was coming but still it makes her magic buzz under her skin and she struggles to restrain it while trying to answer. Years of experience and her own iron will is all that helps her fight her instincts to keep her fangs from emerging and, to keep it that way, she picks a spot on the bed to stare at and breathe.

“I don’t really like Halloween sir. One year a family decided I was possessed by a demon because of my accidental magic and they tried to have me exorcised so I get…anxious, I suppose, being in any one room for too long.” This is the short version of the story that made her the way she is, and only part of it, but she cannot possibly share the long version because they would certainly ship her back to Wools.

Hari had learned very quickly that expressing just how much you hated muggles should never be done in public and especially not with people who do not share that opinion.

One glance up shows the guilt-stricken faces of the Potter’s and she feels rather spiteful at that because, to her, it makes it appear like they are the victims for having to hear the consequences of their actions. “It’s been many years since I heard of muggles turning to those methods, but I am incredibly sorry that you had to suffer that, Hari,” Dumbledore says, and she grits her teeth to not accuse him of lying again.

“I think I should get our young hero back to her dorm. I know miss Parkinson and mister Malfoy are planning a mutiny if they do not see proof that she’s okay soon,” Snape drawls, just like she expected, and a fond smile curves her lips at the mention of the duo. They were both far too dramatic sometimes and only seemed to bounce off each other.

Dumbledore nods, but Hari thinks he looks like he would rather demand she spill her secrets, “quite right, Severus, I wish you a good day Hari.” The Potter’s look helpless for a moment, like they don’t know if they should stay, but Lily goes to her husbands side. “I’m glad that your okay now,” James says awkwardly, and they finally leave as well.

Her head of house looks at her expectedly for a moment. “Come on then, Gerard, before Lucius Malfoy arrives to raise hell” Snape tells her and she outright grins before getting up.

Snape does not lead her back to the common room, however, but to his office where he immediately calls for a house elf. “A hot chocolate for the girl,” he orders, and Hari sits down curiously as he sits behind his desk. “There’s still some time left until classes end, and I’ll be sending you a house elf with food, so you won’t need to go to the great hall.”

Hari, confused, mutely nods her thanks because she does not understand why she could not wait in her dorm. They sit in silence until the house elf returns and she takes it reluctantly, curling her legs underneath her and blowing on the drink to cool it down.

“Firstly, if you are ever struggling with anxiety again then I would like you to come talk to me. I will be able to supply you with a calming draught, but if you want to talk then I will be able to listen as well. I expect you to come to me next Halloween,” he tells her sternly, so she nods, hiding behind the cup in her hands, because it was hard enough to admit the way she struggled. 

He sighs, as if he is very tired or does not want to say what he is going to next, “I also know that you were holding back with the headmaster.”

Hari drinks, savouring the pleasant burn, but doesn’t look at him. “It’s difficult, sir, because anything I say to the Potters always seems to harm them even if I don’t want their guilt. And, forgive my bluntness, but the headmasters concerns feel false. To me, it’s just my life and memories, so it’s easier not to share at all or regulate what I do.”

The potions master seems to consider her in silence though she does not know why.

“I do understand, Hari. My home life was…unpleasant, you could say, when I was a student here. Should I share those details I often find the response to be that of shock and guilt for never having noticed, so I do _truly_ understand. But I am your head of house and I am here to listen should you want to share.”

Hari stares at him and he stares back.

The hot chocolate doesn’t burn anymore, not by the time she decides that she might actually be able to tell him. “I’ve been exorcised a few times. The matron is very religious and tried once a year until she couldn’t find a priest who would agree” she watches him, waiting on a held breath to see his expression change, but Snape only raises an eyebrow, and she nods to herself.

“But I was six, the first time. It was just before I was returned to Wools, you see sir, they caught me doing something _freakish_ and arranged it with their church to save my soul.” She drinks again, the word always left a bad taste in her mouth. “The Gerard’s thought that because the veil between worlds is meant to be thinner on Halloween that it’d be easier to rid me of the demon. Obviously, that wasn’t possible, so I spent two days there until a local volunteer accidentally found me – that’s what I was told, anyway, ‘cause I woke up in hospital,” her mouth still feels dry, no matter how much she drinks, and she keeps her eyes on the cup. “So when I say I was returned to Wools, it would be more accurate to say I was removed from their care for my own safety.”

This, she realises, is the first time she has ever told anyone. Someone had once told her that sharing would help, that she might feel relieved, but Hari does not think she feels any better at all. Of course, that could be because she still must hide the way that it had started the fire inside of her, the anger and hatred she keeps carefully controlled and contained, and how it is all directed towards muggles.

No, not only muggles anymore, because she would quite like to burn Albus Dumbledore too.

Hari blames the headmaster more than she blames the Potter’s because she can overlook blind faith even if she cannot forgive it; she will happily hold him responsible for the way she spent two days in the dark, trying to keep her magic from tearing out of her so that it could consume the muggles whole.

Snape clears his throat, “why do you keep their name?” He sounds curious but it helps because at least he is not commenting on how horrific it must have been. She has always hated pity.

“To remind myself, sir. I got comfortable there and let them see too much. It was a valuable lesson to never simply give away my trust…and certainly not to muggles.” He doesn’t snap at her, doesn’t even seem to judge her, and that provides her a vague sense of comfort.

Hari may not give away her trust easily, but she thinks he might have earned a little.

The man shakes his head, “I want you to try and take better care of yourself. You were as exhausted physically as you were magically, Hari, and I don’t want to find you in the infirmary again.” It might say something about her that he doesn’t look like he believes she is going to listen.

She puts her cup back on the table, carefully considering it, before she leans back in her seat, “sir…if I told you something – something private – would you keep it a secret? I don’t think it’s a danger to anyone or against the school rules but there’s hardly anything in books and my housemates aren’t able to help either.” She peers up at him.

He looks cautious, which is smart, but open enough to consider it. “As far as you know it’s not dangerous?” He questions, and she nods mutely so he takes only a moment to return her nod, “I can try.”

It takes her a moment to decide how exactly to put it. “What convinced the Gerard’s I was possessed…they caught me talking to snakes. I’m a parselmouth sir,” Snape goes completely still, so drained of colour he could resemble a muggle interpretation of ghosts, but Hari continues regardless. “I didn’t realise it wasn’t common until I talked to the portrait of the snake in the common room, and Luca told me he hadn’t talked to another speaker in fifty years. I’ve been waking up earlier to talk to him and he teaches me some spells that the other speaker shared with him, like the one I used on those boys, and I used another to strengthen the weapon I used on the troll.”

Hari has always been in her element when she shares her research, so few people wanted to listen to her thoughts anyway, and her mood grows so much lighter when she can “I’ve been doing research on where it came from in the library most days.” She doesn’t add that Marcus Flint had once physically carried her out for quidditch practice because she was so deep into her research. No one but Madam Pince had seen her hiss and spit at him like a cat so Hari would like to keep some of her dignity intact. “It’s an inherited trait, based on creature ancestry, and my best guess is that it’s a dormant Potter gene from our Indian ancestry. Parseltongue is less rare in much of the Asian continent, and parts of Africa, so it would follow that it simply fell into obscurity like metamorphmagi in the Black family and came back out with new blood.”

The potions master is still remarkably paler than usual but he, so suddenly she jumps, begins to laugh. “You told me to check foreign spells,” he finally says and, whilst it’s not quite accusing, she frowns at him, “parseltongue is, technically, a foreign language.” He shakes his head at her again, looking at her like he’s had to re-evaluate whatever ideas he had about her, before he sighs, “well, Hari, I don’t know much about parselmouth’s. As you know, they are incredibly rare in Britain, but I can assure you that you aren’t in any trouble.”

She pretends not to be disappointed that he cannot offer her anything, but she thinks he notices anyway because he looks at his arm for a moment before he speaks again. “Parseltongue is classed as a dark ability in Britain but the spells are not banned. Any ritual the portrait might tell you about, however, will certainly be since the ministry banned most forms of ritual magic two decades ago,” he shares the information with a slight frown, like he disapproves of the decision, but Hari just feels relieved that she doesn’t have to stop. “Given your age, I assume your fangs have come through?”

The question stands for a moment before she grins slyly and bares her fangs. Luca had told her they would not finish growing until she reached puberty, so they are still small and only slightly curved where they rest beside her canines. She had spent so many hours inspecting them in the mirror, watching them grow and thicken since they had burst through, that she could picture them exactly in her mind.

For Hari, her fangs are a line of defence and a point of pride because there are so few like her and even a flash could scare off some of the older children at Wools. Snape doesn’t quite hide his shock but there’s something she can’t recognise, and she thinks about the way he had told her he didn’t know much about parselmouth’s, yet she still feels like he is hiding something because she cannot see even an ounce of fear in him. 

A dull ache as she forces the fangs back in, wiping blood from her chin, “they came in two years ago. The matron thought I was actively being possessed, so it was a terrible week.” She does not admit that she had been locked in her room, barely able to eat for the pain, because she is not quite ready to share that. “I have pretty good control of them now, I couldn’t just bleed and hiss at the matron every time she yelled at me. I can fight the instinct now unless I’m in pain or I get really angry, so there’s no worry about me biting anyone.”

He snorts at that, but she does not know if it is in disbelief or otherwise, “I’m not sure if you’re aware but parselmouths have an unfortunate second puberty where they begin to produce their own venom.”

Hari was not aware of this fact and immediately starts planning how to use this bit of information in future, preferably against the matron, but thinks it might give her away if she asks just how identifiable and lethal the venom might be.

“It may please you to know that you have protection from nearly all venoms, and a selection of poisons, though I couldn’t tell you which ones. The only snake venom you’re in danger from is that of a Basilisk but seeing as only three currently exist, I doubt that they are a threat.” She had read up on Basilisk’s the first week of term after hearing the common room’s password and knows exactly where all three of the creatures on record exist, she also wants to visit and talk to at least one from pure curiosity. She does not inform him of these plans because she worries that they might alarm him slightly, considering every reserve that held them were at locations even dangerous for wixen to travel to. “When you begin to produce your own venom, it will be an invaluable resource in potions, and because of your immunity to most snake venoms your venom will also be an effective ingredient in general antivenin. That is why parselmouth’s are sought after healers in other countries, currently it’s only Europe that classifies them as dark and drives them away from the continent.”

Hari listens attentively, full of curiosity, because she has never heard of her talent talked about in a way that did not make her sound evil. Her housemates whispered about it, only in their common room, making sure she knew to hide it from the teachers because no one else would be as fascinated with it as them. It goes without saying that muggles had never treated it as anything but a sign that she was born evil. The books available in the library treated it much the same, labelling it as dark because of its relation to Slytherin as if no other country exists.

Something inside of her feels lighter to know that not everyone thought that way.

Snape shakes his head. “I will keep it a secret from the headmaster and the rest of the staff but only until either you reveal it, or you begin to produce venom, whichever comes first. At that time, it will become a safety concern, you do not need to bite someone to accidentally spread your venom, even sharing a drink could kill someone if you are not careful. When that time comes, I will provide you with antivenin to carry with you.” It is not a debate, she knows by how stern he was in contrast to the rest of their conversation, so she nods because it’s an acceptable compromise regardless.

Another silence takes the room as he casts a tempus charm. “I hope you don’t continue to exhaust yourself researching this now,” he comments dryly.

Hari smirks back at him, cocking her head slightly, “oh, but sir, I still haven’t even finished reading up on quidditch history yet. I have a list of things to research after that.”

Her often dour head of house looks to the ceiling in response, “to your dorm Gerard, I meant it when I said Malfoy has been attempting to call in his father.”

.

Hari is picking at the food a house elf had brought her when the door to the common room is opened and she is nearly tackled out of her chair by her very enthusiastic housemates. She absolutely does not make an undignified noise of surprise when Pansy barely pulls Draco back in time.

Tracey does not have anyone to stop her and ends up barrelling into Hari’s ribs in her effort to claim the seat next to her. Hari curses in parseltongue but doubts it will leave a bruise, she’s more unhappy with herself for not even considering punishing the girl for it.

“Is it true you were attacked by a troll?” Draco asks, sounding much like he had run all the way there, at the same time Tracey asks more timidly, “did you really defeat it?”

Hari asks Morgana, Merlin, and Hecate for more patience.

“Yes, to both. I had the misfortune of not being aware there was a troll and getting cornered by it. When a distraction arrived, I took full advantage of it,” she wishes that she cared more for the almost endearing looks of awe from her housemates but all she cares for is some breathing room. “No damage done, I’m fit and healthy for quidditch.”

Flint, just outside of the circle of excited first years, outright punches the air in his relief.

Blaise, standing beside Pansy and just as calm as her, rolls his eyes before shouting, “let the princess breathe! You’ll all do the trolls job.” Hari grabs Tracey with one hand to keep the girl from leaping away in panic but no one stops Draco from rearing back into Theodore Nott which leaves the two boys tangled on the floor.

She grins at him, “oh, Blaise, we all know they wouldn’t even get close.” His dark eyes practically sparkle when he meets her gaze, but their housemates start to disperse so their group might settle down.

Tracey stays at her side.

Pansy gracefully takes the seat to her left and no one dares stop her.

Draco and Theo are happy enough on the floor, quietly bickering near her feet, and no one has the patience to try and separate them.

Daphne claims an armchair to herself, smirking at Blaise when he tries to grab it, and even hangs one leg over an arm so he can’t try to share it.

Having lost that battle, Blaise tries to win the war and stands behind the chair to poke at Daphne and ruffle her hair.

Hari still does not know what to call them.

Two months in and they all use the word friend, but she is not sure of it yet. She is still playing around with calling them followers because there is so much that she wants to do one day, and they would be useful to have. They all certainly hang on her every word enough, though Blaise is less blatant about it, and where she might have to repeat her power display for others, these are the ones who would never need another show. The older years look to her for permission sometimes, but it isn’t quite the same, she doesn’t stake her claim on them for the risk it would raise questions from the headmaster.

When Tracey leans into her side once again, Hari is still no closer to an answer on what to name them, but she allows herself to enjoy their company all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Luca the portrait snake is teaching Hari some of the spells Voldemort used back when he was in school. We love two torture happy Slytherins having to try and hide under Dumbledore's nose. Flint having to physically pick up and drag Hari out of the library is also a weekly occurrence, the mans is probably the only one willing to risk her wrath for the sake of quidditch. Also, fun fact, in some parts of India apparently Harini means a female deer because James Potter fell over laughing at his own joke.
> 
> Somewhere out there Severus Snape is yelling at Hari to pick her battles wisely while she plans Dumbledore's assassination.


	4. Be my only, be the water where I'm wading.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape tortures his house and Hari shares her plans for world domination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As is typical with me, I'm posting later than I wanted to. First I just want to say, with all the stuff going on this week I hope you're all doing okay and I send you all good vibes and wishes. The real world absolutely sucks for a lot of people right now and I know a lot of people are probably using fanfic as an escape right now so I'll just leave it at that <3
> 
> I realised upon writing this chapter that I had briefly written a thing covering Yule and yet. Not anything that would actually make half a chapter. My outline for first year was honestly pitiful so I spent a while writing my own lore reference sheet for magic, magical creatures and how different families ended up in wizarding Britain which took up around two days before I could even write the second half. There's going to be one more chapter after this for first year before we get onto what's been my favourite part to outline and draft honestly. 
> 
> I've also updated the tags! I realised the endgame was deciding itself when writing, even if it's more like Hari holding Pansy and Blaise together but poly trios for the win in my opinion. Obviously, I hope no one hates the planned pairing but there are going to be other important relationships before then. I also added some others to make sure it's clear I don't stan 99% of characters in HP being white or straight though I didn't mention Draco is indeed bi and Theo is gay bless his lil heart. Evangeline and Farley are very minor characters but they are both trans girls, I'm just not sure if they're important enough to put in the tags and I don't want to clog up tags for people looking for those characters.
> 
> Anyway. The usual standard disclaimer that this is not beta read and I am using the HP lexicon as a bible as well as the wikia to make sure I'm vaguely right. Importantly, I am basing much of the Yule celebration on actual Wicca traditions. I am interested in Wicca but I don't practice so I do apologise if I've done anything to offend anyone who does. Also, thank you for the kudos and comments !

Rumours and gossip spread through Hogwarts faster than anything Hari has ever seen, despite having lived at Wools for most of her life and attending muggle school, because within two days of Halloween the entire school has some idea of what happened. None of them are accurate but it means she has entirely too many people trying to talk to her in the corridors when it comes to classes on the Monday.

Hari decides it was unfortunate that she decided against killing the troll, if she had then the other houses might have feared her and jumped out of her way.

Adrian makes no effort to hide his sniggering when he catches her eye over a band of Hufflepuffs following her to class. She is not sure if she would rather hex him or the puffs, but Tracey keeps hold of her arm to stop her drawing her wand regardless.

The only source of relief is that no Gryffindors get in her way and she thanks Lady Magic for that small blessing. To the majority of Gryffindors she was still their enemy, for being both a Slytherin and being on the rival quidditch team.

Hari wonders which of her sins are worse to them.

The majority, of course, does not include Adrian – or, at least, he keeps trying to prove he is an exception to the infamous house rivalry as if it were the only obstacle in the way of her spending time with him. For the wizarding saviour (for what exactly, everyone has yet to tell Hari), the boy was recklessly naïve because he does not even seem to consider that Hari might listen in on his conversations in their shared classes.

Hari has always believed in the benefits of knowing your enemy and Wools is an exercise in survival, it taught her a long time ago that she should always be aware of her surroundings. She does not consider the negatives to eavesdropping on her twin when there are so many benefits because he spends more time in potions talking to Ronald Weasley than he spends monitoring his potion.

Adrian hates most of her _friends_ , agrees that all Slytherins are dark, but is very insistent that she is the sole exception to that rule.

When she relays that conversation back to Tracey and Pansy in their dorm, practicing their nightly routine of ignoring Hari’s personal space, Pansy shrieks with laughter and falls off the bed. The pureblood does not stop laughing even when the two of them are forced to pick her up.

.

When the Saturday of Hari’s first quidditch match arrives, she decides not to make Flint worry and stays away from the library. Draco also practically drags her to the tent, talking so fast about strategy and Slytherin’s winning streak that Hari cannot keep track of what he is saying and settles for humming and nodding at what she deems appropriate moments.

He does not touch her, he never does unless she initiates it, and Hari doubts anyone outside of Slytherin would believe that the Malfoy heir was quite so empathetic towards his friends.

The Slytherin teams’ uniform, as expected with their house, was wildly expensive and financed by various pureblood alumni. The dark green contrasts with the silver accents while a customary snake sits just under their names in a lighter green.

Pansy was going to spend a week talking about how it brought out her eyes. Hari can only plead that a higher power grants her mercy.

Flint had dedicated at least a quarter of their last practice on their entrance. Slytherin had to be intimidating to look at, he had reasoned, so the team walks out in a perfectly uniform manner. The Gryffindor team roll their eyes at the sight of them and Hari thinks it might be jealousy, but she will voice it when both Hooch and Potter are close by.

It gives Hari a particularly vicious stab of joy to know Potter would be torn between his Gryffindor bias and the daughter he threw away. The grin Evangeline Rosier directs towards her proves that she is not alone in this assessment of his impending misery.

“I want a nice, fair, game out of all of you.” Hooch says but looks directly at Flint, making it very clear she’s referring to Slytherins habit of playing rough. Hari has made herself busy reading about quidditch history and feels quite confident Slytherin keeps in line with the pro rules because she hates cheating. Flint grins but does not argue.

No one wanted to start out on the wrong foot with the referee after all.

“Mount your brooms please.” Hari very carefully does not look at Potter as she climbs onto the Nimbus 2000 in her hand. It had arrived at breakfast a few days after making the team with no name attached to say who it was from but nearly the entire house had privately agreed it was the Potter’s. Draco had begged her not to burn it, claiming it was a beautiful broom, and she didn’t but only because she has always liked shiny things. The top-of-the-line broom was certainly new and shiny.

Hari was also going to use it to destroy Gryffindor, the Potter’s own house, and the idea of doing that on a broom they provided gives her a similar joy. That alone was all the reason she needed to keep it.

The game starts as soon as she is in the air but Hari hovers above them all to look for the snitch and enjoy simply being there.

A few parents have turned out for the first game of the season, she even tries to match the ones in Slytherin colours to her housemates as she flies around the pitch. There are two men, however, that sit with the Gryffindors but wear the Slytherin colours and that really catches her curiosity. The dark-haired man looks part way between miserable and ecstatic but, judging by the way he keeps looking at his scarf, Hari thinks he might be upset at supporting her team. His partner has dark brown hair and scars across his face, but he grins wider every time he looks at the other man.

Hari will admit that she is absolutely arrogant at the best of times but even she thinks it might be too much to say that they are watching **her**.

A glint of gold steals her attention, and she chases it, flattening herself to the broom as much as possible to allow herself to gain some extra speed. Her housemates all cheer wildly though she pays them little attention because she is so close that she can make out the finer details of the snitch.

A bludger nearly slams into her from the side and it is only a quick dive that saves her, but the snitch is gone once again. The Gryffindors certainly cheer at that. Hari retreats to a vantage point once again, weaving between players in her effort to avoid getting hit and get in the way of the enemy.

Hari allows herself to laugh at Lee Jordan’s commentary, directly congratulating her on saving the broom from harm. Draco was probably telling Crabbe and Goyle the exact same. It was a _very_ pretty broom after all.

The broom goes wild. It tries to throw her off and, at this height, Hari knows she would almost certainly die. She cannot control it to get help.

It lurches so suddenly that she nearly falls. She does slip, actually, but she hangs on with two hands and refuses to panic. Brooms do not suddenly do this, and brooms have protection from this kind of magical interference. Someone very much wants to maim or kill her.

Hari curses in parseltongue.

(Luca had been teaching her curses that would offend any actual snake that she met, like implying their scales do not shine or that they cannot hunt their own prey, but they do help her vent the panic that is rising in her gut.)

Her palms are too sweaty to hold on. Magic is fighting over her broom judging by the way it stops trying to kill her for a few moments at a time. An active curse and counter curse. Absently, Hari wonders what she did in another life to deserve two near death experiences in one term because she certainly has not done anything in this life.

She only tortured her housemates once and all of them had accepted it as the consequence of their actions, so they are certainly not the ones out to get her. Hari barely even _speaks_ to anyone outside of Slytherin to offend them.

Maybe Beauxbatons would accept a very late transfer?

Hari has always been very good at splitting her thinking when it came to high stress situations. It is one of her best attributes and it is why she can plan on trying to leave Hogwarts while still processing everything going on around her. By the time she has considered both the benefits and the obstacles in regard to transferring, she also has a very flimsy plan of how not to die.

Oh, her housemates have finally realised somethings wrong. Better late than never.

Hari draws out her fangs as one hand slips and she uses them to shallowly tear into the meat of her palm and draw blood. Wools was truly an exercise in survival, without it she might not have had the stamina necessary to keep hold of her broom or pull herself up to grab it again with her bleeding hand.

She cannot draw any runes or symbols in her position, but she can draw on the magic in her blood, the power that comes with willingly spilling it, to disrupt the spell long enough to pull herself back up.

The Slytherins cheer in relief but Hari clutches the wood so tightly her knuckles pale. She cannot even enjoy the worry on Potter’s face because her little disruption is not going to stop the one responsible for long.

Hari notices another flash of gold as she dives, and the promise of a win takes priority over the threat of death for a moment because she is sure she can do both. She redirects the broom. The Gryffindor seeker is close behind, but Hari is not quite so cautious about the speed at which she is headed towards the ground.

The broom bucks again as she pulls up for the snitch, hand outstretched, and this time it gets what it wanted. Hari is tossed into the air and only distantly hears the roar of the Slytherins in the stands when she hits the floor quite nastily, rolling when she does. Probably no broken bones because she knows the pain of those, and she just aches.

Not quite ready to force herself up, she holds up the snitch in her the hand that is not bleeding. The crowds erupt in applause and roars of disappointment.

By the time her teammates surround her, which is rather soon, she has forced herself to sit up and shake herself off to rid any dirt that might have gotten in her hair. Flint picks her up to place her on her feet but the way her shoulder hurts at that makes her think she is definitely going to have a spectacular bruise tomorrow.

Hooch reaches them first, ordering the Slytherins to move aside so that she can properly check Hari is okay, and Hari is very careful to have wiped the blood from her chin first. It would not be so easy to dismiss as the cut on her hand.

Potter, thankfully, hangs back though he only stops looking panicked when Hooch agrees that she does not need to go to the infirmary.

Slytherin wins by over one hundred points and the team barely makes it through the captains congratulating each other in their eagerness to celebrate. Hari is swept up, literally, in their celebrations on the way back to the tent to change.

Snape, as expected, is waiting there and keeps her back. He casts one episkey on her hand and informs her that he will be taking her broom for inspection, he does not need to say it for them both to know someone had interfered with it one way or another.

He also does not comment on the blood on the broom. Hari likes that about the professor, he wouldn’t stick his nose in so long as he did not think his snakes were in trouble.

.

Pansy tells her, as her housemates walk back to the common room together, that she was not sure whether Draco or Blaise would faint first.

Blaise walks ahead and Draco’s ears turn bright red. Neither of them had fainted but they had both used poor Theo for support. Literally. Tracey does not detach herself from Hari’s side for the entire walk either and it takes more patience than she has to allow it.

Hari supposes, in her housemate’s defence, that she was considerably strange in how calmly she deals with her near-death experiences. Maybe it would help to inform them that she has her own plans to find the perpetrator and deal with them accordingly?

.

Slytherin house parties the entire night.

Flint and Rosier had even smuggled in butterbeer alongside the alcohol for the younger years because, apparently, it would be irresponsible to let them join in.

Hari, on her housemate’s behalf, tries to point out that it is also irresponsible to put an eleven-year-old a few hundred feet in the air and throw bludgers at them. Flint laughs at her but the first and second years thank her for trying. She waits for the chance to go back to her dorm and enjoy the peace and quiet there.

The opportunity to slip away never presents itself because one of the sixth years drunkenly spells the staircase. No one listens to Hari when she declares it inhumane to keep her there.

.

Severus Snape walks into the Slytherin common room at eight in the morning and immediately must step over one of the older students who decided to sleep on the floor.

Maybe decided was not the word, he considers after looking around, because nearly all of his snakes were spread around the room. Every couch and chair had been taken by as many as could pile on, leaving the floor as the only alternative. Overall, it’s not the worst state he has found his house in after a quidditch victory.

Flint had slept on one of the tables. Strange, but considering the captain had gotten so drunk the previous year that he had mistaken Severus’s office door for the entrance to the common room, there were worse things that could have happened.

Rosier was one of the few who had the sense to conjure blankets and pillows because she, Carrow, and Farley sleep in a nest of them in front of the fire.

Severus can only imagine the argument that resulted in the first years claiming two couches. The two have been pushed together and he can only describe the result as a puppy pile. He is not a particularly sentimental man, but he almost wishes he could take a picture to embarrass the first years one day.

Zabini had the misfortune to be at the bottom of the pile, his head poking over the top of the arms of the couches, and he’s turned diagonal where Malfoy had shoved his way into the space at his left side. Nott was half on top of the blond and has his legs dangling over the side.

On the other side, Gerard is tucked into Zabini’s shoulder and Severus makes no comment on the way the boy has his arm around her. Parkinson is fully on top of Zabini and nestled between Gerard and Nott, which is making him curious of how the boy had not been crushed under his yearmates. Davis, as expected, has pushed her way in to lay with her head on Gerard’s side and has the girl’s legs in a tight hold.

Unexpectedly, Greengrass had taken the unconventional approach of sleeping horizontally at the bottom and on top of most of their legs as if it were a hammock.

Bulstrode, Crabbe, and Goyle form their on pile on an armchair that he doesn’t even want to try and understand.

Severus makes his way to a clear spot in the middle of the room and raises his wand. “Good morning!” He yells as he lets off a spell to light up the room with something like fireworks.

Flint falls off the table with a yelp, falling onto a panicked Warrington.

The first years mostly stir and try to untangle themselves but Gerard hisses something and buries her head into Zabini’s shoulder. Severus restrains a smirk at the utter fear on the boy’s face when he realises just who is using him as a pillow.

“Breakfast is in thirty minutes.” He calls out and most of the room groans in reply. He purposefully ignores the complaints about the ‘Dungeon Bat’ and fires off another magical firework to force his snakes to move. “I expect you all there, unless you want to explain to the headmaster why an entire house is missing.”

That, finally, provides most of them the incentive to move despite their hangovers. The first years have no excuse besides tiredness, so he watches them for a moment more to make sure they are untangling themselves.

Nott pokes Gerard once in the side and yelps when she hisses back at him in parseltongue, pushing himself back into Malfoy who lands on the couch facedown again.

“Professor,” Parkinson calls, being helped out from the makeshift bed by Greengrass. “Can you cast an aguamenti at Hari?”

Severus looks at the hopeful first years and a worried looking Zabini who is still trapped. “Are you unable to cast it?” He asks with a raised eyebrow and the children all look at each other silently before Malfoy coughs, “she’s less likely to hex you.”

The boy does, of course, have a point considering how fast Nott had jumped away when he tried. Severus raises his wand with an ' _aguamenti_ ' far too fast for any of them to jump out of the way, leaving all the first years soaked and spluttering.

Gerard surges up hissing, her hair mostly having come loose to turn into an unruly mess around her face, and only stops when she realises who cast it. The slight flush to her cheeks would be easy to dismiss as a result of the cold water but he is confident in attributing it to her realisation of the nights sleeping arrangements.

As a matter of fairness, he casts the same spell at the older students who are not moving as fast as he would like. Flint, fortunately, has years of experience to know that he should absolutely run towards his dorm before Severus gets him anyway.

(Flint does not run fast enough.)

“Twenty minutes and I expect no requests for hangover potions.”

.

No one talks about the party, which suits Hari excellently.

The first week of December brings Snape to the common room to take the names of students staying for the holidays and Hari’s little group looks at her horrified when she puts her name down. It takes her a moment to notice them all gaping at her.

“You’re obviously staying with me,” both Draco and Pansy say at the same time and Hari resists pointing out that they spend so much time together that there is no real difference.

Pansy puts down her essay to fix Draco with a glare. “You already have Theo for Yule,” the boy in question splutters a protest that no one has him but neither Slytherin acknowledge him. Hari looks to Blaise with a raised eyebrow and he grins back, “mother would love to meet you.”

The two stop their argument to look at Blaise with identical expressions of horror and betrayal.

Hari takes one look at Snape who shows no actual sign of amusement but is watching closely. “I’m not going with anyone,” she announces, bringing the attention back to herself. “If I do leave, I imagine either the headmaster or the Potter’s might intervene to insist I spend it with them.” Her housemates very carefully consider this before nodding in agreement.

Draco looks at their head of house for a moment before putting his own essay down. “I’ll be staying too, sir,” he declares. “Someone should show Hari how to celebrate Yule. Mother and father will understand,” Hari raises her eyebrows but does not object and a moment later Theo sighs. “I’ll be staying too then, since I was going with Draco.”

Daphne, having gone back to her essay, does not glance up. “Put me down too, sir, I can’t abandon Hari to all this testosterone.”

Tracey laughs at the blatant looks of offence when all the boys look at each other.

Snape shakes his head but moves along after noting the names which finally allows their group to pounce on Hari. “You can stay with me this summer if you want. Mother likes having company,” Draco offers, and Hari finally discards her essay.

She cannot hide the sneer on her face. “I imagine that the headmaster would intervene if I try to go anywhere but Wools or the Potter’s,” Hari has no actual proof besides the mans immediate offer of a resort and her own personal dislike of him but Draco nods without question.

“We should write our parents and tell them.” Daphne sighs but Theo has an uncharacteristically bright grin on his face which only makes sense when he says, “at least we get to miss the Yule ball this year.” Pansy rolls her eyes in response, but Blaise dramatically sprawls across his chair, so Hari assumes they are referring to the Malfoys yearly ball.

Full of important people and impeccable manners, so of course the children would find a corner to hide and wait out the night miserably.

Hari wonders, quite often, just what her housemates tell their parents about her in these letters.

.

The next day Adrian catches her before class. They both send their friends ahead, because it is the only way Draco and Weasley won’t snap at each other.

Adrian glances at the door and Hari is prepared to leave if he doesn’t talk soon. “Would you like to spend Christmas with us?” He blurts out and she stares at him. “Me, mum and dad, I mean. I heard you were staying for the holidays and…” he continues on nervously.

Damn.

Dumbledore must have told the Potter’s that she signed up to stay because she doubts it could have gotten back to them so quickly any other way. Hari raises her total number of plans to get rid of the man to nine. Creating a new one each time he did something to ruin her day seemed to help her not actively curse the headmaster.

A strangled noise from Adrian brings her out of her thoughts and she sighs, “I’ll think about it.” He grins so brightly that it makes her hurry into class.

.

Within four days of signing up to stay for the holidays, Hari has had to return to her routine of hiding from the Potters. She should have just told Adrian _no_ , she reflects, because they have tried to ask her twice more and barely looked deterred when Hari had informed them that some of her housemates had decided to stay with her already.

She goes to Snape’s office that night for one of their irregular chats where she shares whatever she is researching now, and he checks that she is not going to end up in the infirmary again. He doesn’t look up from the essays he’s grading so she assumes he still has no progress regarding her broom but there is a hot chocolate waiting.

They sit in comfortable silence for five minutes before he sits back in his chair. “The Potters have decided to stay in the castle,” he announces, and Hari puts her drink down to listen closely. He moves the drink even further from the edge of the desk. “They claim that they’re remaining to keep the Weasley children company while their parents are away.”

Hari, uncharacteristically, laughs so hard that she falls out of her chair.

When she sobers there is a slight smile on Snape's face because they both know the Potters could easily host the Weasley children in their own home for the break. It was an utterly transparent attempt to convince her to spend some time with them over the break by circumventing her protests.

“You took that better than I expected,” Snape comments and Hari smirks before taking her drink back. “Well, it’s not like I have much reason to leave the common room over the holidays,” she points out and notices exactly when her head of house catches onto her plan to avoid them. “It won’t be hard to avoid them entirely.”

A moment silence before he sighs quite heavily. “You are not spending Yule _entirely_ in the common room,” he tells her sternly, even if he knows by now that she is not going to listen if she does not want to. Hari nods, “of course not, sir, I know a few passageways into the library.” She does not mention two of them are passageways into the restricted section.

They stare at each other before Snape shakes his head. “Do you have anything to share tonight or can I return to these essays in peace?” Hari rises just enough to glance at the stack of parchment before snorting, “you hate grading your OWL students.” He cannot argue with that, so she sits back in her seat. “Actually, I’ve been practicing writing in parseltongue with Luca’s direction.”

.

On the same day most of Hogwarts leaves, Hari’s housemates show her how to set up an altar.

Draco practically bounces in excitement when they go outside to gather snow, and then to the great hall to grab some fruit. They decide to do one together in the common room due to their small number and Hari does the heavy lifting to shift some of the furniture with magic.

Farley and Warrington decide to take part in their altar, but both the upper years insist it is because someone needs to provide guidance to the children. By the time Daphne is satisfied, a bowl of snow rests on one side with nuts sprinkled across what had been a bookshelf and some sacred plants the Malfoys sent sorted into neat piles.

They ask her if she has anything, she would like to cleanse by leaving it at the altar for Yule and Hari must consider it before she retrieves her sparse sowing kit. Daphne leaves a figurine her sister sent but Hari cannot identify the magical creature it’s meant to represent, Theo leaves a picture that Draco later tells her was of his mother, and Draco himself leaves an animated dragon pin his aunt gifted him before she was sent to Azkaban.

Hari is uncomfortable with the solemn emotions of her housemates and leaves before either of the upper years join in. She has little experience with comforting anyone considering the hands-off approach at Wools and imagines it would be awkward at best should she try. A garden snake had tried to comfort her once, when she was seven, and had told her that, as snakes, they could bite whoever had upset them and that her skin was far nicer than theirs. It had made her stop crying but Hari doubts that it would help her housemates.

Her housemates, after all, have not spent weeks feeling more snake than human.

She retreats to the library wherein she finds the biggest book she can from the first shelf she comes to and sits down without even checking the subject. Advanced warding. A quick look at the contents tells her it is a little above her level but it’s not much of a deterrent when the other option is feeling inadequate regarding her social skills.

A chair gets pulled back and she assumes it must be one of her housemates, so she does not look up. “I’ll hex you into Yule if you –” she shuts her mouth when she finds Adrian and Weasley across from her. Both look at her wide eyed and she sighs, “I thought you were one of my housemates.” It makes Adrian perk up a bit, so Hari does not mention that she is happy to hex them anyway.

“How come you don’t have any snakes with you anyway?” Weasley asks, loud enough that Pince throws a glare their way, and Hari shuts her book because she is going to leave sooner than she gets the chance to finish it. “I am a snake, in case you forgot Weasel,” she replies sharply and ignores the way her twin’s eyes narrow.

There is an uncustomary scowl to Adrian’s face. “You don’t need to be so mean, Hari,” he tells her in a weak attempt at controlling the situation and Hari cocks her head at him. Considering it was public knowledge that he was mentored by Dumbledore, she does not know how he is quite so slow when it came to things like this. Did he think she was going to let his friend insult her house? Weasley had not said anything outright insulting, no, but he had put all the insult needed into the way he spat the word snake.

Hari shakes her head. “I am mean, Adrian, I don’t know how you haven’t realised that yet.”

Most of the student body really should understand by now that she would sooner snap at them than smile at them in the corridors. Never allowing for much more than a snide comment in classes, she will not let her temperament get in the way of her future, everywhere else was fair game and even the teachers had started to take notice. Hari was far from a bully so they wouldn’t step in or hold it against her, but she was eager to hex or spit cruel comments at anyone who so much as implied offence to her house or her group.

It would hardly be fair to the rest of the school if she didn’t hold Adrian’s friends to the same standards.

Her twin sighs, pressing his palms into his eyes like he is far too tired for this, and Hari partakes in one of her least favourite habits, cataloguing the differences between them once again. It is one she often slips into in his company, reminding herself that they are vastly different in almost all ways. From what she has heard, the Weasley twins enjoyed being identical and Hari cannot imagine taking any enjoyment in sharing so much; Hari has prided herself on her individuality since she knew what it meant. Being different had become something to pride herself on at Wools and she refuses to let it go.

Adrian’s skin is lighter than hers, at first glance it’s one of their biggest differences, because he had clearly taken after their mother in most ways. Hari usually doesn’t pay it much attention at all because she has spent years learning to ignore both the staff and children at Wools and she worries she might fall back into those ways of thinking if she does. He had gotten their mothers straight hair, which is the only thing she is envious of considering the work she must put into her own, and he was already taller than Hari to her frustration.

They are clearly related, Daphne once teased her on the fact they share a scowl, but Hari doubts anybody’s first guess would be that they are twins, and it provides her some relief.

“But you don’t have to be.” Adrian finally says, hazel eyes wide and almost pleading when he looks at her. “We’re not gonna tell on you if you’re nice,” Weasley adds though he’s far less happy, frowning at the table, and Hari imagines he is forcing himself to try and be friendly for Adrian’s sake.

 _Oh_. They think she is just trying to fit in with her house, that it might get back to her mean Slytherin friends that she is being kind to Gryffindors.

Hari cannot stop herself laughing for a moment because she wonders how the two function without Granger to help them if they could come to such a ridiculous conclusion. “Fine. Why do I have the pleasure of your company?” She asks as pleasantly as she can when mocking them for the idea is preferable.

The two boys look at each other as if they did not expect to get this far. “We’re all here for the holidays,” Weasley points out and Adrian elbows him, not as discreetly as he thinks. “We thought we could spend some time together. There are no restrictions on who sits where over the holidays so we could sit together for dinner some days.” Her twin says and it takes a conscious effort on her part to not immediately scowl at him.

Weasley shifts in his seat again, like she makes him uncomfortable, and if she were a better person then she might not enjoy it. “I imagine,” she begins, leaning back in her seat, “that you mean I could sit with Gryffindors, and never the other way around.” By the look on his face, Hari has hit the nail on the head.

“It’s – there’s nothing wrong with sitting with…Slytherins,” Adrian protests quickly, almost tripping himself up, and Hari almost feels bad for him. How had Dumbledore neglected to teach him the importance of his words? “Slytherins wouldn’t want us there anyway,” Weasley adds confidently but doesn’t use the name ‘snakes’ this time, so she does not have a reason to snap back at him. She can give him some credit for that.

The redhead is not wrong, none of them would want to spend time with such proud Gryffindors, and Hari wishes they would both realise this particular Slytherin doesn’t want them **here** now either. “And Gryffindors would want me at their table?” Hari challenges, risking a glance around in the hopes that someone might arrive to give her an out. “This Gryffindor does, so their opinions don’t matter,” Adrian snaps back almost immediately and Hari still cannot decide on whether she finds his attitude grating or appreciates his relentless efforts to forge a bond with her.

No one has ever tried so hard to get to know her, and Adrian has kept trying despite her every attempt to make him stop.

“Doesn’t that go both ways? If I wanted you to sit with me, then why should the other Slytherins matter.” Both go silent, not quite sure how to answer, and she patiently waits to see how they are going to slip out of this corner without just insulting her house.

The Gryffindors unexpected saviour comes in the form of Draco Malfoy who comes jogging up to their table calling her name. “Hari! We were wondering where you went.” The blond says, only slightly raising his eyebrows when he looks at the two boys, “I can go, if you’re busy.” Hari shakes her head, pushing back her chair and silently planning how she is going to thank him for the rescue, but she sees how Adrian’s face falls and sighs. “I’ll think about it, sitting with you for dinner sometime.”

Hogwarts has made Hari far too soft.

.

On the night of the twenty first, Farley and Warrington lead the effort to sneak of the school and establish their circle. Three days prior they had explained how Yule was traditionally celebrated and made the offer to let her attend. No one expected Hari to say no and she had not disappointed.

Warrington had told her at the start that, regardless of your core or declaration status, you could still participate in a circle because there had not been so much of a divide between wixen a few centuries prior. Mixed circles needed two leaders but only he and Farley would be performing rites, so they didn’t need to consider that this year. No one explains these concepts to Hari because they all know she is going to bury herself in research later regardless.

At the end of their explanation, when the two had left them alone in the common room, Draco had burst into laughter at the very idea they would need a mixed circle. Warrington had, apparently, assumed Hari might have a different core to the rest of them due to her blood but, before leaving for Yule, Pansy had remarked that she would dress as a muggle for a day if Hari’s core was not dark. No one had spent any time to explain what this all meant, and the regular section of the library did not offer any help either. Daphne, in a show of mercy, had explained that a core rarely differs from the rest of your family and the Potter’s were notoriously light.

Hari does not think that blood magic is particularly light but, three days later, she still has not had an opportunity to get back into the restricted section.

Having made the journey multiple times, Farley and Warrington get them outside the castle easily and lead them down to an area near the lake. The cold is biting, and they cannot huddle together as they stand in a loose circle around Farley who holds a white candle in contrast to the black ones the rest of them hold.

Farley takes her wand in one hand and raises it to the sky. “As the longest declared, I establish this circle. Like magic, a circle has no beginning, and it has no end. This circle is a manifestation of our magic and, like magic, it will protect us.” The prefect says before turning her wand to the candle to light it. Hari, in time with her housemates, takes her own wand in one hand and turns it to the ground before moving it to point to Daphne at her left and says “ _rogo autem matris defendat est magicae_.” Flames of deep purple rise from the grass, first they circle Warrington before they run towards Theo and circle him too.

Within moments they are all trapped in circles of purple flame and connected by a wider circle. Trapped is the wrong word, Hari decides, because the flames wait low so they might flare up at the sign of danger. The flames are magic reaching out to protect them.

Farley looks at them all before putting away her wand. “The wheel of the year has turned once more, the nights have grown longer and colder, but Mother Magic has cared for the dark in our home and allowed us to grow stronger.” She pauses once again and Hari wonders if it is the first time she has done this. “The darkness shall retreat so that the light may begin it’s return once again. Mother Magic has blessed the dark and she shall bless the light as well, because we are all her children. The wheel does not stop turning and as the dark retreats, the sun will return to us once more.”

Farley steps towards Warrington, only pausing to let the flames around him pull back, and lights his candle using her own. “Even in our darkest hour and on the long nights, Mother Magic has protected us and helped us remain.” Warrington says and Farley nods before stepping back, the flames circling the boy once again, and then she moves towards Theo. When she lights his candle, however, he does not repeat Warrington’s words, “we have lain waiting, ready to rise again, and we will honour her when the time is right.”

They had practiced, of course, the words they were to say and the order to take because Farley had been nervous most of the day. She moves onto Draco, “Mother Magic has blessed us with her gift and her love, and she will protect us for so long as we protect her.” Hari meets Farley’s eyes as her candle is lit, “the darkness will not leave us because the dark is our home, the dark gives us life and the dark lives in us.” Finally, Farley moves to Daphne and the blond stands tall as her candle is lit. “The sun shall begin its journey home, and, in its light, it shall bring strength and life for the light.”

Farley returns to the centre of the circle with all candles lit and the girl takes a deep breath before she speaks again. “The wheel turns because it does not stop, just as our magic does not stop and the circle does not end, and we will return to perform our rites and thank Mother Magic for her protection in establishing this circle.” The flames of their candles flare at the same time as the purple flames, rising so high into the air that Hari cannot see the others through them, and when the flames go down the candles have all turned white and their flames purple. “The circle has been established. As the longest declared, I bring this circle to a rest.”

The flames die around them all at once, the same as their candles, but Hari feels a light buzz under her skin still. “Come on, we should hurry back before we get caught” Farley urges them, trying to herd them back to the castle, with no help at all from Warrington who laughs and lightly shoves her. “Relax, it’s Yule Gemma! Let the firsties have some fun,” he tells her, but it is clear he’s having more fun than they are. Farley, without pause, grabs a handful of snow, and dumps it on his head; Hari looks at Daphne who seems in perfect agreement with her.

They both bolt for the castle at the same time as Draco and Theo dive to grab the cold weaponry. A snowball hits Hari in the back of the head, sending her into Daphne’s back and taking them both down in the process, and she groans facedown into the snow. “This is war, right?” Daphne asks beside her and Hari groans again. “Correct, Greengrass, this is war,” Farley says above them which means it must be the prefect who grabs Hari’s arm to pull her up. “I’ll be the first casualty, leave me to die.”

Daphne snorts out loud and even Farley attempts to hide a laugh but does not let Hari remain in her cold grave. The older girl presses snowballs into both their hands. “It was Malfoy who got you, by the way,” she adds with a grin and Hari spots the boy trying to use Warrington as a shield already. “Since it’s war, spells aren’t off limits, right?” There was a parseltongue spell that could really come in handy here and Farley’s grin turns vicious, “Right.”

The spell Luca had taught her, originated by the last speaker for sneaking around, created a very basic illusion copy of yourself while disillusioning the real you. It allows Hari to walk right up behind the boys and dump a handful of snow down the back of their collars, Draco yelping so hard that Hari nearly falls back laughing. She cannot allow herself that pleasure, however, because she needs to run back to the girls before she gets pelted with snow.

The boys team all turn on each other around the time Draco accidentally hits Theo but Daphne and Hari stay strong even when Farley decides her effort will entirely be against Warrington. By the time they get back inside they are all exhausted enough to head straight for their dorms to change and sleep.

.

The five of them sneak back with their candles two days later. Hari is far more excited this time around but that might be because of the miserable experience that had been sitting with Adrian for dinner the previous day. Only one Weasley had joined them but she had missed the quiet table manners of her housemates the entire time and she is not eager to repeat it again even if it helps get the Potter’s off her back.

They form the circle the same way, though Farley says she is opening the circle instead of establishing it. Daphne had explained that the solstice was celebrated differently, no other circle was held over multiple days, and even the summer solstice was different to them because it was a day of strength for the light instead.

Farley does not light their candles at once this time, when the purple flames surface their candles light as well, and instead she turns to Warrington immediately. “Cassius Warrington, would you like to perform a rite today?” They had explained those, too, though only briefly. Hari was too young to perform one, and she could not until she had actually confirmed her affinity anyway, and none of them could do that until they were thirteen regardless.

Warrington steps forward, “I would like to perform a rite of enlightenment. You’d probably agree I could use some.” Farley rolls her eyes but nods, so he steps into an inner circle of flame where he is circled in front of her. “I ask for the dark to guide me this coming year. I don’t remember much about how difficult things were when I was a child, but the world is changing again, and I plead that Mother Magic gives me the strength and guidance to help me through it again. _Deduc mihi, mater magicae_.” The flames around him grow tall again but some of them jump onto him, shaping themselves to cover his robes, before they sink into him and die down again.

Her housemates look solemn and Hari knows he is referring to a time she’s only heard mentioned in passing, one no one wants to actually explain but had seemingly affected her entire house.

Farley does not ask the rest of them seeing as they are too young, instead moving onto her own. “I would like to perform a rite of evocation. Not a word, Warrington,” the warning does not dull the boy’s smirk, but she continues on anyway. “I ask for the dark to aid me this coming year. My OWLs will determine what I can do in future and I wish to make Mother Magic and my family proud. I do not ask the dark to help me cheat, but I do ask that it helps me remember what I need in my times of need. _Auxilium mihi mater magicae_.” In contrast to the way that the flames had covered Warrington, they form around Farley like a hat before they die down, and she takes a moment to breathe.

Farley raises her wand but this time around, all six of them speak together. “The wheel has turned, and the light has returned alongside the warmth of the sun. The shadows will not vanish for they belong to us and they live in us. The sun brings life to the light as the dark brings us, and Mother Magic will protect us until we rise again.”

The buzz under Hari’s skin is back but it is similar to the sensation of an electric shock she had once read about. She feels exhausted and energised at once, like this is hers and it is how she could feel all the time, like she had once felt like this all the time in another life –

The flames leap up and the sudden flare of light in front of her startles her out of that line of thought. “We thank Mother Magic for her protection and strength. As the longest declared, I bring this circle to a close,” Farley declares and while the buzz remains, it’s not quite so intense for Hari anymore and when the feeling retreats so do the strange thoughts that hadn’t quite felt her own.

“How do you like Yule then?” Farley asks her as they walk back, everyone cautious this time to avoid another snowball war, and Hari considers it.

She had never liked Christmas because Christmas at Wools was never what Hari would call enjoyable, gifts were divided up based on what had been donated and what the matron thought you deserved whilst dinner was solemn. The matron, of course, rarely thought Hari deserved anything at all. Part of that might have been Hari’s refusal to take part in prayer since she was seven years old and the staff had decided her biting them when they tried to make her was not worth it. Yule has nothing at all to live up to for her.

Hari looks at Farley with only the smallest of smiles “It may be my favourite holiday.”

.

Christmas eve is not particularly eventful.

In the morning they each go to the altar privately to thank Lady Magic and state what the return of the sun means to them. Hari does not actually know what it means to her, but Draco tells her that a theme of Yule is rebirth, so she decides that her first year at Hogwarts had allowed her to become more and she hopes that with the return of the sun she continues to grow.

Hari tries not to think about just how much she has changed since the summer. The Hari she was only a few short months ago would have sneered at the idea of having a group of her own, would have responded cruelly to anyone who tried to pull her into a snowball fight, and she would not have felt so damn light all the time. There were days she as fell back into that pattern, and on those days her housemates gave her plenty of space lest she actually bite them, but Hari simply felt better more often than not.

It becomes apparent why Warrington and Farley had stayed for the holidays when they start setting up for their own little party the next day, which includes more firewhisky they had smuggled in. A few of the other remaining Slytherins join while Draco spends the day repeating how grateful he is to miss his families Yule ball. He keeps it up even when they carve their names into wooden logs ready for the next morning, until Hari must hex him into silence to give the rest of them a break.

.

Christmas day is far more enjoyable in contrast.

Upon going downstairs, they thank Lady Magic once again before noticing the punch that had been set up for the younger years, but no one has any until after they throw in their Yule logs which they all insist to Hari will give them guidance from fate.

Theo stands by the fire for at least two minutes, “I need to tell my dad to be careful.” Draco guides him to one of the couches when he does not move, shaking his head at Daphne, so the girl only frowns for a moment before she goes next. Daphne doesn’t stand there for nearly so long, barely throwing her log into the fireplace before nodding, “we…should stay close this year. All of us.” Farley and Warrington are less ominous, though Warrington seems to think his is a bad sign about his exams for some reason, but Theo grows relaxed enough for Draco to go next.

The blond spends no less than a minute frowning at the fireplace in a way that he often does when he is incredibly frustrated with something. The last time had been a particularly difficult transfiguration essay that Blaise had to help him rewrite. “Books are going to be important,” Draco says but doesn’t sound all that convinced so Theo snorts. “Maybe you’re going to be about as lucky with exams as Warrington.”

A cushion misses Theo’s head and lands near the entrance to the dorms. Hari turns her log in her head before she steps up and throws it in, she does not know what she’s expecting but her vision goes black as soon as the log touches the flames. Dark hair, brown eyes – no, red – the eyes keep changing in a way she cannot understand, a Hogwarts uniform and pale skin all flash in her minds eye but she cannot get a clear image of them. She needs to say it, make a guess, to end the magic but she struggles to guess what fate is showing her. “…I’m going to meet someone strange. And important, I think.”

Hari walks straight to get some punch.

They are left alone to open presents; Hari sits on one of the chairs with a glass of punch to watch until Daphne throws something at her expectantly. “Aren’t you going to open yours?” The girl rolls her eyes and Hari blinks mutely, so she gestures at the pile Draco is sorting. Evidently, Daphne had thrown one of the smaller gifts from the pile at her to get her attention.

All three of them look at her but, judging on the way they quickly look back to the gifts, they must realise Hari truly did not expect any. Hari places her punch on the small table before moving to the floor, slightly nervous even if she would hex anyone who claimed she was, and no one comments on that.

Hari gets a book on the history of modern magic in Korea from Daphne, a very old book on parselmouths that Draco asked his father to dig up from the Malfoy library, and a book detailing quidditch plays from Tracey. On the more practical side of things, Theo gifted her with a broom care kit, Pansy had sent a new winter robe with warming charms, and Blaise’s name is on the package of magical sowing supplies that would allow her to imbue the thread with her own magic the next time she alters her clothing.

No one even lets Hari promise gifts, on a practical standpoint because of her limited funds, but also because she regularly teaches them some of the new spells she learns because the ministry will not notice them. Draco had really enjoyed the curse she taught him that originated in Japan and would non-lethally impale the subject to immobilise them.

The Potters, with no idea what she would like, sent both a magical brush and some Sleekeazy with a note saying the Potter hair was notoriously terrible to deal with. Seeing as they were completely right, Hari resists the urge to throw the gifts away. The final gift is marked as being from ‘Padfoot and Moony’ which means absolutely nothing at all to Hari and leads to Farley teaching them an impromptu detection charm to make sure it is safe. It is and inside Hari finds a blanket with magic weaved in to ward off bad dreams and Japanese Honeysuckle that, when placed in her hair, would help magically style it.

While Hari ponders over if some stranger has a problem with her hair, Daphne experiments with the flower and tells her that they are a surprisingly expensive piece of magic. It does not stop her from wondering if she is not doing enough to keep the wild curls somewhat tidy.

.

One hour before the feast, Warrington realises that a fourth year had spiked the punch when Draco falls over his own feet and giggles on the floor like a maniac. Farley docks an absurd number of points while Warrington tries to sober them up but, considering they had been drinking it for most of the morning, the effort is in vain.

Hari cheerfully informs the boy that Snape is not in the castle because he had taken Christmas day the previous year. The only other option, with their head of house gone, is Pomfrey and both Warrington and Farley know the woman would be furious if they admit they need help with sobering four eleven-year olds.

Their being ever so slightly drunk is what leads Farley to try and herd them all to the feast with a tight grip in the hopes that food might help absorb the alcohol in their system. Hari, upon entering, declares that in the spirit of Yule (but mostly spiked punch) she is going to wish the Potters a happy Christmas. The Potters are happily surprised, the Weasleys simply surprised, by the cheerful greeting which must be the only reason they miss the flush to her cheeks and the fact she had not taken time to polish herself up before attending.

Farley tries to keep one arm looped with Hari’s the entire feast so she cannot do anything else that might reveal their unfortunate situation. An unwise decision because Draco gets increasingly loud while Theo turns beet red laughing when Daphne knocks over a goblet of pumpkin juice in the middle of shouting for wine. Hari laughs so hard she gasps for air while Warrington shouts that the four of them stayed up all night and are just overtired.

The rest of the hall are completely unconvinced but the rest of the remaining Slytherins close in to try and keep them in check. Thankfully, no one’s first guess is that they are drunk. The feast does help, they quiet down by the end, but they are still rushed back to the common room as quickly as the upper years can without physically carrying them.

Farley sets up a nest of pillows and insists they will all be sleeping there for the night because she doesn’t trust any of them alone. She isn’t wrong to assume that, considering Theo and Draco had been talking about another snow war that Hari was feeling inclined to join, and the prefect stations herself near the door.

In the spirit of spiked punch, all four of them sit on the floor and spend the night laughing over everything and nothing. Theo shares the way one of his father’s inventions once tried to turn on him and Draco gasps out a story about his families peacocks once chasing Professor Snape when he visited for afternoon tea. Hari, on her part, shares her rudimentary plans for world domination because there was always a chance Britain would not be enough and she likes to be prepared. She doesn’t think anyone believes she is joking but none of her friends (?) ask any further or challenge her which is the best result possible.

Should anyone ask her, Hari’s first Yule at Hogwarts is one the happiest times of her life.

.

Hari’s first Yule, she revises at nearly three am, is absolutely terrible.

Or maybe drinking is just a terrible activity she should never participate in. The end result still leaves her with a terrible headache and makes her fangs ache despite not being out, and she groans before shoving at the others where they sleep on the ground. It would be unfair of her to go to bed and leave them all there until morning.

Her friends are equally miserable, but Theo pulls Daphne up by her arm and the two lean on each other and head for the dorms. Draco nearly walks into her when they both try to go up the stairs at the same time which leaves them both pulling back with neither unsure who goes first. This pause leads Draco to pull back even further and he sees something overhead that makes him blush so brightly it is obvious even in the dim light.

Hari follows his line of sight and notices some mistletoe overhead. “Would you like a kiss, Draco?” She asks softly because she would quite like to get into bed sometime soon. Draco, somehow, flushes even brighter but he shakes his head so vigorously she wonders if it must hurt, “No! I mean – you’re just offering because there’s – I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

It might be unfortunate that Draco simply is not her type because even she must admit his stammered protest is adorable. Hari steps forward and kisses him gently on the cheek, though she will not admit that even now she has to lean up to manage it, but already she can feel just how warm he is. When she steps back, he simply stares at her in surprise, leading her to wonder if she has once again broken him, but she smiles at him regardless. “Goodnight, Draco.”

.

Because the higher powers have heard Hari admit to herself that she was actually happy, Hari can only assume it’s their fault that the rest of her school year is absolutely horrific.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, yes, that was Sirius and Remus sneaking in to cheer Hari on. They're both keeping their distance because they don't know what Hari knows and James and Lily probably told them she wants space, so Sirius decided to force himself into Slytherin colours to support her. He also spent the entire match crying to Remus about going against his Gryffindor instincts and then both of them nearly went for Dumbledore's head because Hari was in danger. 
> 
> I also very much picture Hari as dark-skinned. There's some evidence in the actual canon that could support it and as such it's absolutely my headcanon. I cannot find an Indian actress who I feel is accurate to represent Hari because of colourism in the media, but I picture Adrian as Avan Jogia as he grows up. Our mans Rahul Kohli is also a good visual for how I picture James if you curled up his hair a bit. Anyway, we should all pour one out for Draco, he never stood a chance with Hari by virtue of being a white boy.


	5. Feel it crashing and burning till it all collides.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hari hates chess, Dumbledore, and having feelings. Not necessarily in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got a little late but ! We're finally out of the woods, except the woods were me struggling to make scrape together a long enough chapter to post. I didn't outline a lot of first year because there wasn't a lot for Hari to actually do when it came to lord parasite but from now on the chapters are more focused rather than having a time jumps every where. This chapter also features the actual meeting with Luca the Slytherin snake who I love. 
> 
> As usual, thank you for the comments and kudos! I've never committed to a fic like this and without your support I'm not sure I would have the energy to <3 
> 
> Standard I have no beta and no canon knowledge beta. My computer has been wishing death upon me because I've had so many tabs running to fact check myself.

With most of boxing day having been spent sitting in the common room complaining, Hari decides to take advantage of the last few days before the castle is once again full. This translates to Hari waiting until all of her housemates retire to their dorms before she slips out of the common room to take another of her late-night walks.

She has had years of practice to aid with this rule breaking habit. The matron had an unnatural talent at catching the residents of Wool's in the act of sneaking out but, since the woman often had it out for Hari in particular, she has had years to develop her skills for sneaking around. Filch and his general loathing for the student population had nothing on the matron’s focused hatred and unfailing hearing.

These little night-time excursions have become the only true opportunities for Hari to have the time alone she often craves. Even when her little group would give her space, someone else would take their place.

That someone often being Adrian.

Adrian Potter was such a master at making Hari’s life difficult that she often finds herself wondering if he does it on purpose because he has never chosen a time to intrude on her life that was not wholly inconvenient. That may have been harsh on her part, but Hari has never been particularly talented at understanding her own feelings and, when her twin enjoyed ruining her already limited alone time, she has not had a chance to organise her thoughts or process her feelings in months.

Hari is not completely sure which part of the castle she has ended up in, but she hears someone. Maybe. No footsteps or whispers follow, there are no signs it was anything but her own imagination, but Hari has always been cautious of not being caught breaking rules even if she has never shown that same caution for her own life. She ducks into a classroom she doesn’t recognise but considering just how many abandoned classrooms there were in the school that doesn’t surprise her much.

No footsteps follow yet again, so she looks around the room. There are some old desks and chairs but what gains her attention is a large mirror at the far end of the classroom. It must be ancient because most things in Hogwarts tended to be a few decades old in her experience, but this mirror feels old even by the school’s standards.

Approaching it out of curiosity for the ornate gold it is set in, Hari barely resists the urge to reach out and touch it. With it being so much taller than her, she barely notices the inscription near the top and it proves even harder to decipher it; years of reluctant visits to the nearest Specsavers because the matron wouldn’t spend more money than absolutely necessary had left her no longer needing to wear glasses but certainly did not mean her sight was excellent.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

Hari read a book on simplified types of code once. Part of her old plans for the future, should she have needed to communicate with anyone behind the matrons back, before the wizarding world had been presented to her. Mirror writing had been mentioned only briefly, simple, and barely a code, and Hari considers simply leaving without actually looking into the mirror itself. She isn’t sure if she wants to see her heart’s desire and confront the risk that it doesn’t align at all with what she has decided for herself.

Curiosity wins again. Hari steps back to look at her reflection even if that reflection isn’t entirely accurate. The Harini Gerard in the mirror is older, wearing neither sleep clothes nor a school uniform, but the expensive kind of suit that the social workers and staff at Wool's could never afford. Mirror Hari smirks back at her, standing with the kind of confidence Hari does her best to emanate but, most importantly, when she looks closer, she sees the shadows of celebration in the background. The celebration of an election victory, of her victory, because mirror Hari is the Minister for Magic.

Hari should be happy, and she would have been if her traitorous heart hadn’t decided to step in because mirror Hari isn’t alone. There are others with her, though they’re all blurry and seem to switch places, but she can identify enough features to know the blurry figures that mirror Hari stands with are her classmates. They must be because no one else could lay claim to the pale blond hair gelled within an inch of its life besides Draco and she instinctively recognises the smile that so often enjoys her misery as Blaise’s. One figure doesn’t change places like the other and Hari, to her own frustration, is sure that it must be Tracey when she looks at long hair and pale skin.

Would it be too much to ask that her own desires don’t betray her plans to be alone?

With a glare at the mirror, truly wishing the thing would shatter regardless of the bad luck it may bring, Hari prepares to leave. Halfway to the door and that plan is ruined, she hears whispers outside, and in a moment of panic she squeezes into the tight space between the mirror and the wall.

Holding her breath, she does not dare try to peek around to see who it is out of worry it may be Filch or a teacher. Hari has yet to have detention and does not particularly want to start now.

“You need to come look Ron!” Adrian urges and Hari rests her head on the stone wall to resist the urge to scream. Yet more evidence that a higher power must hate her, or karma is trying to repay her for a particularly horrible past life. “Do you see your family?” Her twin asks despite Weasleys complaints of being manhandled in front of the mirror.

A moment of silence before the redhead replies, “no, I’m alone. But – I look older, a bit like Charlie…I’m head boy, ‘Rian!” Hari bites her tongue sharply to stop herself laughing simply because Blaise would have kneazles if he lost head boy to a Weasley, especially one who could barely listen through class. “I have the head boy badge like Bill and – and I’m holding the house cup and quidditch cup! I’m quidditch captain too. Do you think this shows the future ‘Rian?” Weasley asks breathlessly and Hari would absolutely sacrifice the idea of being minister if it meant she didn’t have to be head girl alongside him. There were other methods to overhauling magical Britain and Hari refuses to give up collecting an accolade like that.

Adrian isn’t quick to reply. He takes so long that Hari starts to get frustrated at her situation, prepared to quietly disillusion herself and walk out with no care of the risks involved, but before she can truly consider it, he finally speaks. “I don’t know,” he sighs but without seeing his face she cannot even try to understand. “I hope so. See – it shows me defeating you-know-who but there’s my mum and dad in the background. And next to ‘em are Uncle Sirius and Remus – and right there…right there is Hari. She’s actually standing with us and looks happy –” Adrian cuts himself off sharply “– I don’t know if that would ever happen.”

Hari feels a pang of something she does not at all understand. Maybe regret, because Adrian looked into the mirror and saw his family together, but Hari didn’t even think of them. She hadn’t wanted to see herself with anyone at all let alone with the Potter's.

“It could still happen mate. I bet she’s a bit like Ginny and just tries to seem real tough,” Weasley says in what must be an attempt at comforting his friend but it serves to annoy Hari plenty. A sudden noise in the corridor must catch their attention just as much as it catches Hari’s, and she hears the scuffle of them rushing to leave alongside the open and close of the door. She waits a moment longer to see if anyone else might appear before she squeezes herself back out as well.

“I was partial to exploring the castle in my youth as well,” Hari nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound of the headmaster’s voice. Dumbledore himself stands near one of the old, discarded desks looking like he had been there the entire night and she would not be surprised if he had been.

As usual, Hari was on the backfoot when it came to the meddling old man. “It doesn’t show the future, does it sir?” She asks instead, glancing back at the mirror, because she really doesn’t want to entertain any of his attempts at relating to her. Dumbledore shakes his head with the gentle kind of smile that might have fooled someone else, but Hari has been determined not to give the man an inch since he called her into his office.

She isn’t sure exactly what he’s hiding but she knows it’s a deception all the same. “No, it doesn’t, it simply reflects your heart’s desire,” he confirms, walking to the mirror himself. “The Mirror of Erised. A wonderful little innovation of magic, though no one ever claimed credit for it. It has also trapped men who were entranced by their own reflected desires.”

Hari looks at the mirror again, but she is far less apprehensive because desire is not dangerous for someone like her. Her plans would always come first because simply desiring something would never get her anywhere; she had desired a home and people who did not shun her once, but she knew that would never become reality anytime soon and turned her attention to planning on how to leave Wool's instead.

Crossing her arms over her chest, trimmed nails lightly biting into her skin, “will I have detention – for being out after curfew?” Dumbledore looks at her with a hint of what might be surprise, maybe because of her lack of interest in the mirror, but he smiles at her again. “I believe we can overlook it this once, so long as you go back to your dorm.” At least she hasn’t blemished her records for an entirely unpleasant adventure.

“Before you leave, would you mind telling a curious old man what you saw Hari?” He asks before she can turn to the door and she pauses to consider the request. Hari imagines that he will remain on her back until she leaves the school altogether so giving him a hint of her plans wouldn’t make a difference at all. “I saw myself as Minister for Magic, sir. There’s a lot of things I want to do one day.”

She risks one look up at him, meeting his eyes for a moment, and for once there is no shine or twinkle in his blue eyes. Hari sees naked suspicion that is hidden so quickly that she almost questions if it was ever there at all but then he doesn’t so much as smile at her like he often does at the other students and she knows it was real. Dumbledore, for reasons she still can’t understand, recognised her as the enemy from the moment she stepped into his office and he had been playing chess ever since. One moment trying to get her onside by playing the kindly old man and the next looking like he is trying to take her apart and understand her.

Hari has only tried to play chess once against Theo and she absolutely hates the game.

It was so much simpler for her to deal with the matron, that had always been a war of attrition with no true strategy because neither side would ever concede a loss, but Dumbledore would have made a fine Slytherin with how he turned every interaction into a high stakes chess game regardless of how aware his opponent was.

Hari refuses to play and simply leaves.

.

Three days after her housemates returned from break and Hari is ever so slightly miserable.

The mirror still hasn’t quite left her mind. The fact that her traitorous heart had decided that she did in fact want to keep her little group of Slytherins close even after they left school frustrates her to no end. On top of that Theo had shared some of the events of Yule with Tracey which had left the girl pleading for them all to venture back into the snow together for a rematch while ignoring Hari’s reluctance to participate the first time around.

Morgana help her because Hari was one day away from agreeing just to stop the girl looking at her with big sad eyes. Not that the impending tears were earnest on Tracey’s part, just a manipulation tactic, but if the girl actively started crying then Hari might just have to curse herself for being the cause.

Hari cannot understand for the life of her why she would actually want to subject herself to the continued indignity. This frustration at herself had evidently started to show because her housemates have regularly given her space to go for solitary walks and try to understand it.

It is upon slipping back into the common room from one of these walks that Hari finds she’s intruding on some kind of confrontation and decides not to draw any attention at all to herself so she can find out what’s going on.

That plan is difficult to keep to when she gathers that it’s Blaise and Pansy being confronted. The older boy, the hopeful seeker Hari had beaten to the position at the start of the year, stands tall with a sneer and she restrains to urge to immediately curse him for daring to look down at them. “What would your mother say Zabini – following the orders of a half-blood. Hasn’t she killed a few of those?” Higgs spits and Hari feels her nails bite into her palm, “I expect it from Malfoy, they follow anyone that might benefit them, but you Parkinson? I thought you had some strong pureblood pride.”

Pansy and Blaise, to their credit, do not show much at all in response to his insults but they notice Hari first and their eyes widen just a fraction. Years of needing an iron sense grip on her self-control to survive is all that keeps her rage from showing on her face but, in a way that almost surprises her, none of it is directed towards the personal insult. This will not be the last time someone insults her blood – she cannot waste her time getting angry about it rather than dealing with the problem – instead, her rage is directed towards the way he dared to talk to the two.

“Is this the first time he’s done this?” Hari asks, causing Higgs to whip around and look at her, but the two look at each other uneasily which is all the answer she needs. Her nails still bite into her skin and she has to force her fist to relax, “and is there anyone else?” The common room is silent in response, but she knows it’s not because they’re all innocent. They are nervous of what she is going to do and rightfully so because it takes effort to remind herself that she cannot permanently maim Higgs despite truly wishing she could.

Hari glances at Luca’s portrait above the fire where the snake lays in the grass, content to pay little attention to the drama of human children, “ _Luca_.” The dark green head pokes up, but he certainly makes it seem like a chore, the obnoxious portrait that he was, ' _is the human done ignoring me?_ ' She hopes the snake doesn’t meet another speaker for a century, ' _maybe you won’t let me humiliate myself next time – what if I had told another parselmouth I was writing in parseltongue?_ '

Luca turns his head up at her which, to the Slytherins who couldn’t understand snakes, probably looked somewhat threatening but Hari knows he’s simply still pouting because she refused to entertain him for a week after finding out what he had been teaching her was parselscript. Maybe one day she will meet a snake that isn’t as demanding as they are dramatic. ' _Snakes have no use for writing things down child_ ,' Luca replies, ignorant to the annoyance in her tone when she snapped at him, but Hari is pleased to find that the common room is still deathly silent because they don’t know she’s simply arguing with a portrait.

' _Enough – the nightmare curse the other speaker taught you, do you remember the incantation?_ ' She snaps because she’s delayed far too long already, and it would be incredibly frustrating if Higgs started to doubt she was actually going to retaliate. In fact, just to prove a point, she hits him with a nonverbal body bind curse before anyone gets too relaxed. If snakes could roll their eyes, then she imagines Luca would have but instead he shares the incantation with a tiredness that probably meant the previous speaker has spent hours teaching it. Luca had told her, when he first started sharing these spells, that the dark-haired boy that came before her half a century ago had wished his inevitable successor would have half a brain and the raw talent to learn from him.

Hari is not particularly keen on the idea of just following her predecessor’s steps but she is not above learning from what he left behind and improving on it so she can be better.

She finally leaves the edges of the room, glancing down at the immobile Higgs with barely disguised disdain, and then at the silent Slytherins who know better than to break the silence and make themselves a target. One peek at Blaise and Pansy reveals the two watching with a mixture of amusement and interest, no attempts at hiding it, but watching the way their hands move under the table she would not be surprised if they were making a bet on what she’s going to do.

They could have at least waited until she was done defending their honour.

“If anyone has a problem with my blood status then I would hope you would raise it with me, or are you all cowards? These are your infallible beliefs and I’m only a half-blood, after all, what could I do to you proud purebloods?” Hari sneers and her housemates have the wisdom to look away because if any of them had dared meet her eyes then she would have subjected them to the exact same punishment as Higgs. “If it somehow was not clear I’ll refresh your memories. I’m sure it just slipped your minds over Yule,” bares white teeth – a peek of red coated fangs – in a naked threat. “I will defend you all as my housemates outside of this room because I take care of what is mine. Blaise and Pansy, like all my friends, are especially mine and should be considered far above you on the food chain. In fact, if you so much as look at them in a way I don’t like then I will take issue with you the moment you step into this room, and if you dare insult their families? I suggest you try to never step into a room with me.”

Her rage bleeds into her words, drawing out her words where she almost slips back into parseltongue, because as much as she has been frustrated with herself, they are her friends. They are all hers, they belong to her now, and no one should ever think they can insult what is hers. Hari turns her eyes back to Higgs and turns her wand in her hand, the blackthorn wand as supple as ever, and she finally grasps it tightly as she crouches down beside him. “ **M** **ộ** **t c** **ơ** **n** **á** **c m** **ộ** **ng không th** **ể** **tránh kh** **ỏ** **i**.” The spell is rough, she hasn’t practiced it before, and she imagines that her predecessor had sounded far smoother when he had used it on his enemies, but a grey mist leaves her wand and settles over Higgs and smothers him all the same.

The screams that leave him immediately make her housemates jump but Hari grins at the easy success. She rises again, slipping her wand back into her pocket, and looks to her friends, “I think we should go find Tracey and take a walk outside, enjoy the last of the snow. It’s too loud here, don’t you think?”

Pansy sniggers with less grace than she usually presents but the two move to her side quickly and flank her as they turn to leave. “Will it – how long till the spell fades?” One of the fifth years asks in a voice that trembles and Hari looks at them for a moment before she shrugs. “I need to cancel it. I’ll learn how when I get back; you were happy to listen to his tirade so I’m sure it won’t be much of a burden to listen to his screams.”

.

Higgs shakes and refuses to even look at Hari or her friends out of fear he might suffer her wrath again. Hari thinks it’s well deserved even if Tracey tells her after the second round of the snow war that she had taken it a little too far, but she would rather she strike fear into her housemates now than find Higgs cornering Tracey later.

She might have overlooked the no maiming rule if she had found Tracey being treated that way because detention would have been completely worth hurting anyone who dared treat the girl that way.

He even drops off the quidditch team altogether, even if he had only been a reserve player, which only proves she made the right choice. Even Tracey’s disapproving looks couldn’t stop her smiling at the news because Pansy had later admitted it hadn’t been the first time her friends had been harassed. Tracey doesn’t need to know that Hari had demanded a list of names though the girl still seems suspicious of the accidents that befall the Slytherins in question.

.

Hari is absolutely not curious about the Potters lives, she would quite like to not acknowledge them at all, but then she starts seeing the two men that caught her eye during her first quidditch game appearing around the castle.

First, she finds the black haired one arguing with James Potter on the quidditch pitch when Slytherin was meant to be holding their Tuesday practice session. Flint holds them back for five minutes, hoping the two men might move on without them needing to interrupt, but when it’s clear the two are too heated to notice, Flint tells them to just go on. A bunch of very unhappy Slytherins must catch one of their eyes because the stranger quickly moves to leave while Potter casts one panicked look at Hari before following.

A few days later she hears gossip from a fourth year about Lily Potter arguing with a scarred stranger. Hari doesn’t immediately jump to connect the two but when she actually sees the man storm out of the castle a few days later she recognises him from the game too.

Hari does not want to know because what she wants is a stress-free existence until the summer. She suspects she will not get it, but she certainly won’t actively ruin it by trying to figure out who the two men are. In fact, she goes so far as to tell herself the two had not been watching her in particular and may have just been supporting Slytherin to spite the Potters.

.

A tripping jinx catches Hari on her retreat from the library with entirely too many books in hand. Quick reflexes mean the extent of the damage is the pile of books scattered across the floor and bruised knees, but she fires a stinging hex at the retreating red robes uncaring of if it actually hits its target. She takes a moment to smooth herself down, adjusting the flower she had been gifted at Yule where it came loose from the Dutch braid in the fall, and when she looks up again someone is kneeling in front of her collecting the books.

Hari bites her tongue when she realises it’s the man who has been visiting to argue with Lily Potter at least once a fortnight. “That stinging hex was a little overpowered, wasn’t it?” The man asks, looking up with an amused quirk to his lips. Hari sighs through clenched teeth, “would have deserved them right if it actually hit.” He chuckles at that, picking up the pile of books in one hand and offering her the other as he stands. Hari accepts the hand up out of stubborn politeness more than anything.

“You might be quicker on the draw if you don’t carry around an entire study groups worth of books.” Hari is only a little annoyed at the stranger daring to tease her about her reading habits but at least it wasn’t another student who found her like this. She raises one entirely unimpressed eyebrow as she takes back the pile of books, “but then I’d have to visit the library twice as often and risk someone else checking them out.”

The man smiles in a way that both looks completely natural and unusual on his face, like he doesn’t get nearly enough opportunities to do so, and Hari refuses to acknowledge the calming edge he has.

“Thank you – for the help,” she says as politely as she can, adjusting her grip and wanting to get back to the common room, because it had slipped her mind entirely for a moment that he is part of the Potter business and she doesn’t want to be tied up in any of that. His smile gets brighter and Hari can’t understand why because all he’s done is interrupt his own day to help pick up some schoolgirl’s books, “you’re welcome, actually it was a pleasure to meet you.”

Hari decides to make a swift retreat before the Potter family and their weird friends swallow her whole.

.

Severus Snape would like to meet either an early retirement or an early grave. He has had to exchange civil words with Black and the wolf due to their far too frequent visits to the castle in order to argue with the Potters over their goddaughter. Severus would have just told the girl who they were if he thought Dumbledore would not annoy him to death about it, because the Potter's truly underestimated their daughter if they thought she actually needed to be eased into knowing her godfather and his husband.

Severus would like to be there when she was told because he would love to see her turn her nose up at them just as much as she did the Potters. It may just give him enough joy to see out an entire school year.

Instead, Gerard sits in his office once again ruining his day rather than her bloods. It was unfair that he was the one burdened with her safety when she seemed to do everything possible to compromise it. Despite his warning to look after herself every time she entered his office, he doubts she has ever actually listened to a word he’s said if it wasn’t something she wanted to hear.

Gerard was clearly intent on finishing her fathers work and ending his life even if her weapon of choice was a stress induced heart attack.

His office door opens as his once best friend slips in. Lily Potter looks first at him and then at her daughter with open confusion and worried green eyes – probably worried about the way the girl was shaking in her chair. “Gerard,” he begins expectantly, leaning back in his chair and exercising the patience he’s earned from years of directing Slytherins who lost all sense of decorum in private. “Would you like to explain what you did today?”

Gerard, on her part, glares at him openly though he doesn’t know if it’s for making her explain what he already knows or for the sin of summoning her mother. “I got the house elves to give me coffee,” the girl admits, and Lily brings a hand to her mouth to hide a far too amused smile, but Severus continues to look at Gerard. “How did you do that – considering you’re only allowed it at meals beginning fourth year,” it would be a great help if Lily wasn’t intent on biting back a laugh and undermining his effort to be stern.

“Flint told us about the house elf assigned to Slytherin a few weeks ago so we could request a meal – that curry that made Draco cry at dinner because he didn’t listen to Pansy’s warning that he wouldn’t like it – and…I threatened them into giving me coffee because I thought it would help me focus better.” Severus should have seen this coming really, she had told him she was going to focus this week of research on the history of the modern East Asian Empire, and he had assumed it would just end in her having to be removed from the library once again.

Severus had not expected she would scare house elves into supplying enough coffee that she would still be actively trembling two hours after her last cup, but then he also hadn’t expected Flint would be so stupid enough to tell the first years about the house elf. It was an open secret in Slytherin but, with most first years not at all used to looking after themselves, they were not told until second year to give them a chance to build their independence.

He closes his eyes, counting to five silently, in the effort to ignore Lily’s obvious amusement at the situation. “It was Parkinson, in fact, who came to me in worry because you hadn’t been seen since dinner and you weren’t in the library. I wasn’t expecting to find you surrounded by books in an abandoned classroom Gerard.” Severus was never a fan of children but if Hogwarts hadn’t already rid him of any desire to be a father, finding Gerard practically bouncing off the walls trying to unravel hundreds of years of politics certainly would have. How he found her was not entirely unlike the way he often found his godson surrounded by toys when Narcissa would call him in to look after the brat, except Draco had been five years old and unaware that someone might break their neck trying to move around the mess.

(Severus had also been unaware, when he agreed to be Draco’s godfather, that the position was not just a sign of trust and friendship from the Malfoy's but an elaborate trick to trap him into babysitting, weekly dinners and being mothered by Lucius on a regular basis.)

“I wasn’t wrong. It did help me focus, sir.” Gerard says far too confidently, like that somehow negated the fact her chair was shaking with her, and Severus enacts his plan. He looks to Lily who has a dawning look of horror as she finally realises why he called her here. “She’s your spawn, you work out how to make sure she actually sleeps this week.”

Gerard looks deeply betrayed but, frankly, if she didn’t want to face the nuclear option then she shouldn’t have tried to leave the mortal plane via caffeine. Lily sighs, shaking her head at him in much the same way as when they were children which Severus elects to ignore. “The infirmary, right now. There might be something there to settle you down.”

Gerard glares at him even as she’s led out and Severus cannot quite stop himself smirking back.

.

April brings the mounting stress of the end of year exams. Blaise, uncharacteristically, grows so stressed that he does not even laugh when Hari gets beaten at wizard’s chess three times in a row.

When it becomes clear that he and Daphne were just as terrible with tests as each other, the rest of them decide that they will let the two torture each other with revision while they tackle it far more calmly in the library.

Leaving Theo and Pansy in charge of stopping the two hexing each other into oblivion, Hari finds a table large enough for the four to join them if they ever escape the common room. Draco chooses to sit across from her and Tracey, as usual, immediately tales the seat to her left but it was the kind of seating arrangement that had become normal because Draco had been getting far better at hiding his crush since Yule.

Around an hour later, when Tracey is insisting that Hari quizzes them both because it is both expected and accurate to say she knows most of the material already, Adrian arrives with his friends. At least none of them immediately take a seat. “Can we study with you?” Hari does not think Weasley or Granger are happy at the idea of studying with Slytherins and it’s the opportunity to have company in misery that causes her to gesture to the empty seats.

Adrian sits next to Draco but she’s sure it’s just to avoid either of his friends being in the pureblood’s way. The blonde didn’t believe in the values of restraint when it came to insulting Gryffindors and Hari had given up on trying to teach him. That leaves Granger on Adrian’s other side and Weasley next to Hari – she nearly laughs at how dejected Draco looks at the sight of their new study partners.

“We were just finishing up with Potions,” she informs them because if they’re going to intrude then they will have to keep up. Tracey snorts loudly, “that’s code for Hari was going to tear us apart by quizzing us.” Hari doesn’t hide the roll of her eyes and leans back in her chair. “I haven’t agreed yet,” she protests because even if her friends know she will give in, the Gryffindors don’t.

Draco laughs outright but must restrain himself from truly calling her out on the fact she’s never denied any of Tracey’s requests yet. Granger looks oddly challenged but Hari’s grown used to the girl trying to constantly compete with her; it was a shame the girl was Adrian’s friend because Hari might have overlooked being a Gryffindor and offered a truce on account of just how smart she was. “It must be easier when you have the potions master as your head of house,” Granger comments and Hari wonders if she meant to sound quite so nasty.

Tracey, with all the fury of an angry kitten, glares at the muggleborn. “Professor Snape doesn’t give us any extra help if that’s what you’re implying.” Adrian looks rather like someone who has accidentally set their kitchen on fire and can only watch the situation grow worse as his body takes time to catch up and jump into motion. “But he does give you extra help in class,” Granger replies with far too much heat, “he’s extremely biased towards Slytherin! He took points from me for answering questions.”

Hari snorts. “And McGonagall is biased in Gryffindors favour, even if she’s less obvious about it, and Dumbledore too,” she points out and the trio have enough mind to shift in their seats. “Snape is just extremely overt about it…and he takes points from you because you scarcely give anyone else the chance to answer.”

Apparently Weasley had been on his best behaviour because he gets fired up suddenly. “Leave ‘mione alone! It’s not like anyone else tries to answer.”

Draco sneers at the redhead. “You mean no Gryffindors. She talked over Tracey once – there’s something called being too eager, Weasel.”

Adrian looks at her like it is her job to fix the situation, so Hari just offers him a shrug in response because this was not her idea and she refuses to take responsibility.

“Hari! Can you quiz me on the forgetfulness potion?” Adrian asks loud enough to draw Pince’s attention, but it draws the rest of the table into silence.

“Oh, I’m not sure I’m the best one to quiz you Adrian. Professor Snape isn’t here to lend his help after all.”

Tracey dissolves into giggles next to her but Hari keeps her face impassive. It was not her fault that he hadn’t seen this coming from the start, the inevitable explosion was half of the reason she had let them join in the first place.

“You’re not helping!” Her twin hisses but Hari shrugs again.

Granger huffs, her mass of curls bouncing with the force, “I told you this was a terrible idea. She’s as much of a Slytherin as the rest of them.” Hari truly cannot fault Granger because she is absolutely right except Granger wrongfully sees it as an insult.

Draco eagerly jumps to the task of defending both Hari and his house despite the fact Hari does not need defending and nothing would ever change a Gryffindors mind. “You’re the one who started this,” he points out with just a hint of disbelief, “it’s no surprise that a mu –”

“Draco!” The boy in question shuts his mouth quickly at her hiss and when she continues to glare at him, he gets up to leave. By the look on Adrian’s face, he probably thought that Hari was angry about the word in general rather than the act of throwing it around in the library of all places.

Maybe one day she will get some peace when she goes to the library. Hari shakes her head, standing up as well, “keep the table, and the books, Blaise and Daphne probably have all the ones we need back in the common room.”

Tracey is on her feet before Hari even finishes and easily keeps pace with her as they hurry to catch up with Draco.

.

Hari is a very smart girl. She is an unattached girl with few exceptions. The world consists of what is Hers and what is Not Hers, and she assigns importance based on where the thing or person in question falls.

She had very quickly put the Potter's into the category of Not Hers and moved on. Her friends and housemates are Hers because they either respect her and do not betray her or they fear her enough to fall in line.

The Potter's have no importance to her because she meant nothing to them first.

If Adrian Potter wants to get caught after curfew and get sent into the forbidden forest then so be it, he can get eaten by whatever is in there. She only shows a little worry for Draco who got himself caught up in the mess because he had become considerably more annoyed at her twin since the library incident.

Hari is angry at herself for being ridiculous because, when Snape arrived at the common room to inform her that Adrian was in the infirmary, she had turned cold. Her stupid twin had nearly gotten himself killed along with his stupid Gryffindor friends and she should not feel anything.

Except she feels worried anyway and it feels like the sharp sting of walking the London streets in December.

It would be completely stupid of her to go to the infirmary to check that he’s okay and yet she goes anyway. He’s alone and asleep, something she can only thank Merlin for, and Madam Pomfrey tuts and sighs but leaves her alone with her twin.

Hari looks him over herself, not actually touching, but she lets her magic loose so it can brush over him and make sure he truly is okay in a way she cannot doubt. Hogwarts has made her too soft, she thinks, but the matron would deal with that quickly over the summer.

Adrian is perfectly okay, just like Snape and Pomfrey had said, and entirely in one piece, the confirmation of which lets Hari release the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “If you make this a habit, I’m not going to your funeral,” she comments despite knowing he cannot hear her to take it to heart.

A glance at the bedside table reveals his broken glasses and she takes out her wand with a shake of her head. One parselspell later, she puts the wand away once again and decides she has spent far too long there already and leaves.

.

James Potter is sure that one of the twins are going to be the death of him. They had taken their complete attention off Adrian for barely any time at all and the boy had decided to go after Voldemort without the help of a single adult.

Lily is laying out the conditions of Adrian’s grounding beside him, one of which being that it would last until he graduates, and James nods along with each idea she pitches while planning on how he is going to twin proof both Hogwarts and Potter manor.

The doors to the infirmary open as they approach and a short, dark, head storms the other way muttering to herself. “– What kind of wizard doesn’t even have protection wards on their damn glasses. They’re always on your bloody face! Absolutely useless!” They can hear the low tone of Hari’s continued complaints even as she keeps walking away.

Both he and Lily pause to look at each other and Lily buries her face in his arm to muffle her laughter. Lily grins up at him slyly, “you don’t put wards on your glasses, James.” she says as solemnly as she can manage and James laughs back. “Remus did ask you at our wedding why you tied yourself to such a useless git.”

They have to take a full minute to sober lest Madam Pomfrey scold them for looking far too happy in her infirmary.

“Miss Gerard just visited. She wasn’t amused with his antics,” the woman in question tells them as soon as they walk in with a hint of a smile on her face. “Oh, we just saw,” Lily nods as she sits by Adrian’s bed and James picks up the newly repaired glasses to inspect.

A new protection rune sits on one of the temples and he holds them up to Lily with raised eyebrows. “Obviously, Adrian’s going to annoy her into joining us next Christmas just to keep him out of trouble,” it’s a joke, he knows it’s a joke, but his heart skips a beat at the idea of her actually agreeing to go back to the manor with them.

Seeing as she had actually smiled at them on Christmas day, something rarely seen outside the Slytherin table, they were making enough progress than it may just be possible.

.

Hari would never admit it even to her friends, but she is nervous about the year being over. She had done well on her exams, she knows that, but the end of the year means a return to Wool's; Hari would rather another exorcism if it meant not going to the Potter's, no matter how harsh that sounded, because she does not think she could tolerate two months of being unable to escape them. That only made Wool's the lesser of two evils and far from her first choice.

They had been near intolerable ever since she visited Adrian in the infirmary, and she had cursed her own weakness plenty for that. Hari just thanks Merlin they hadn’t offered for her to go with them for the summer.

She has every intention of enjoying the end of year feast because she has won Slytherin the quidditch cup and she has played no small part in amassing the points to put them in the lead for the house cup as well.

(Was it big headed to say that when her housemates had told her the same repeatedly?)

Hari is eagerly looking forward to the win she has been working towards all year. Then Dumbledore steps up to award the house cup with his stupid twinkly eyes and false smile, and declares he has some last-minute points to award.

“Are you kidding me,” she nearly slips into parseltongue as she glares at the headmaster, her housemates coming to the same realisation she has as he awards more points to Weasley. “I completed every assignment early – I did extra credit work – and he’s stealing the cup because idiots nearly got themselves killed!”

Blaise, in a rare show of abject misery, drops his head to the table and groans loudly as he listens to his hard work follow hers down the drain. “He might not…” Bulstrode protests half heartedly as if the Ravenclaws weren’t looking their way with complete sympathy, having similarly put it together.

“Stop trying to murder Dumbledore with your eyes, there are far too many witnesses Hari.” Pansy scolds her at the same time Draco shoves a goblet in her face in a not so discreet warning that her fangs have come out. Hari wasn’t fully quite aware she was that angry, but she supposed it was an inevitability she would hit her limit with the old man before the years end.

Hari keeps drinking until he shuts up and the rest of the hall gives their obligatory celebration, although it’s muted on the Ravenclaws end, because at least that way she isn’t actively trying to curse him. Farley looks at the banners above them and sighs, “well, at least Potter can’t nearly get himself killed next year for points.”

She nearly snaps at the girl to shut up because Hari is suddenly very sure he will try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spell Hari used on Higgs was in Vietnamese and loosely translates to 'an inescapable nightmare' because the spells effect is similar to sleep paralysis while the victim is tormented by their fears. I imagine a little bastard like Tom Riddle would enjoy someone being tortured by their own mind while he sat back and relaxed. 
> 
> My original plan for this chapter had Hari celebrate Imbolc which is when the referenced curry incident took place since some celebrations involve eating food related to the day. I couldn't make it work in the chapter but Hari, Daphne and Pansy shared an abiko curry which is Japanese in origin and Blaise stole some of Pansy's. Draco, being Draco, pouted when she wouldn't share with him as well despite being warned he would hate it so Hari decided to just offer him some of hers and watch the ensuing chaos. The concept of Draco in tears callig Snape for help brings me joy and I had to share it even if I struggled to write the scene.


	6. I crawled back to the life that I said I wouldn't live in.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hari misplaces her dignity, plots murder, and could really use an actual therapist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really said we're out of the woods too early huh. This time I actually mean it because I have the next three chapters actually drafted and only in need of some tweaks instead of just vaguely outlined. I also just can't wait to share the next chapter in general so there's a chance I'm either going to get it out very soon or it might be a little late because I have an exam this week. 
> 
> This is a little messy and shorter than usual since it's mostly made up of little scenes of the alphabet gang in action and I really hope the slight change in style doesn't prove annoying but it was the best way to track the train ride. A big CW ! There's some references to abuse again in this chapter, specifically physical and the withholding of food as punishment, and basically most of the Wools portion of the chapter isn't all that nice I guess. There's nothing actually graphic but it's referenced pretty regularly. 
> 
> The usual thank you all for the comments and kudos, thank you for sticking with this mess. Also the standard I have no beta and no canon knowledge but that's okay because we die like he/him lesbians in this house <3

Hari’s return from London is dramatically different from her exit but then Hari herself is so different from when she left that the matron might have thought she had been replaced. Knowing the woman as she does from years of watching and studying to learn the limits, the matron would probably hope Hogwarts employed the kind of punishment Filch often wished for.

There is no more proof of the difference in Hari than the fact that when Adrian runs at her and hugs her, she doesn’t curse him. Well, not _magically_ at least. She had shoved at him, complained, and lamented the fact she shared blood with such an annoying lump of wixen all whilst ignoring how his friends tried to pretend they weren’t laughing. The attempts to shove him away hadn’t been all that successful when Adrian Potter resembled a weed both in the way he refused to leave her life and the way he grew.

Tracey, proving once again she was the only good soul in the entire student body, had pulled her off into a carriage and pretended to be sympathetic by insisting Hari deserved an award for not cursing him yet. Blaise had grinned and asked if he could get a hug too, but Pansy immediately kicked him in the shin so hard he yelped and all with a smile just sweet enough that she almost seemed innocent.

Just to spite him Hari had immediately hugged Pansy and ignored his complaints. The hug was awkward but that was both because of the girl’s absolute shock considering Hari had never even returned Tracey’s shows of affection and Hari having no experience at showing affection. Hugging Tracey a moment later had gone just slightly better even if that were to avoid the inevitable pouting that would have ensued.

The fact that Hari, who hadn’t really ever had a human friend at Wools, needed to cast an expansion charm on their compartment so all of her friends can sit together for the long train ride back to London would most likely give the matron a heart attack. She almost wishes the matron would come to the platform just to see if the woman died on the spot.

.

**_08:45_ **

Despite Hari spending the time to cast an advanced expansion charm so they could all sit comfortably; Theo elects to sit in the middle of the compartment floor and ignore her complaints. It annoys her more that he doesn’t even pretend to worry she might hex him because, somewhere around the time she misplaced her dignity, her friends had stopped seeing her as threatening at all when it came to them. If she had to guess it would probably have been when she animated Tracey’s snowman without the girl asking because since then they all steered her away from torturing annoying Hufflepuffs and ignored any threat directed towards them when she was in a particularly foul mood. Even the other Slytherins had quickly taken to the new food chain after the false start and deprived her of excuses to threaten them and Snape had made it clear she couldn’t scare the house elves again.

If there was anything at all bearable about returning to Wools, it was the knowledge that at least its residents would still be suitably scared of her.

“Stop kicking me.” Theo pokes at Blaise’s shins and Draco exchanges one look with the dark-skinned boy before they both kick Theo. Pansy sinks deeper into her seat with a long-suffering sigh that Hari cannot blame her for considering how often the boys descended into bickering. It had become a routine that was as annoying as it was amusing, especially when they tried to drag the rest of them into it.

Daphne looks up from her copy of the Prophet, “if you keep this up, we’re throwing you out.” The boys all stop, Theo on his back with his arms wrapped around Draco’s legs in his attempt to drag the blond down and Blaise half out of his seat where he had tried and failed to grab Theo’s legs and hold him still, but Draco grins at her far too cockily. Seeing as the three clearly have no survival instinct whatsoever, Hari decides she is not going to get involved at all when it would just waste her time.

“I really doubt you could force us out of the compartment,” Draco gestures vaguely at Blaise, the tallest of them, who would be particularly difficult to kick out. Maybe they didn’t lack survival instincts entirely because Theo tries to hide behind Draco’s legs when Daphne smiles back. “When did I say the compartment?”

Pansy laughs and even Tracey grins but Daphne turns to Hari completely serious. “You could probably throw them off the train with magic, right Hari?” Her tone remains utterly polite which lends some urgency to the way the boys try to untangle themselves and Hari smirks back, “I could probably work out a way since there’s nothing better to do.”

Theo takes a proper seat.

.

**_11:30_ **

“Hari?”

Hari looks at Tracey from the corner of her eye, immediately suspicious of the girl’s tone, and then spies the way Pansy has put her feet up and on Draco’s lap despite the free space right next to him.

“Absolutely not.”

Blaise bursts into laughter but Hari is too busy ignoring Tracey’s pout to glare at him. Hari takes one look at wide brown eyes and decides to admire the scenic countryside despite having proclaimed her hatred of most of the things associated with it many times.

(That list included but was not limited to mud, dirt, country air, the farm animals that often populated it, and the lack of civilisation. Despite Daphne’s many attempts to convert her Hari has remained stubborn in her assertation she would rather be shot than live in a field.)

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask!” Tracey protests but Hari refuses to look at her just in case her resolve crumbles and she gives in. Hari has principles and a shred of dignity left even when it comes to her friends and she is absolutely going to make this the line. The ordeal of the post quidditch party was an exception she will not allow again.

Pansy, the traitor that she is, leans over to poke Hari’s arm, “you have to at least let her ask Hari.”

It may be a pathetic hill to die on but Harini Gerard is not going to let herself be used as a pillow.

.

**_11: 49_ **

Hari absently pets her fellow half-bloods hair where the girls head rests in her lap, her legs up on Pansy’s lap, not that the pureblood seemed to care because she was too busy making a show of cooing and aweing. Blaise hadn’t stopped grinning but at least Draco and Theo were doing a valiant job of pretending not to notice how quickly her resolve had crumbled so she doesn’t need to try and share out her glare.

“I don’t think Tracey asked you to stroke her hair.”

She revises her mental list of traitors to include Daphne.

“Wake her up and I’ll throw _you_ off the train Greengrass.”

.

**_13:21_ **

“I swear it! Hari back me up,” Tracey cries, shoving at Theo incessantly and pushing him even further into Draco’s lap. Hari looks up from her book and immediately looks to Daphne for some help but the girl shrugs and goes back to comparing her nails with Pansy. “Uh, sure, she’s right Theo.”

Theo huffs dramatically, falling back into both Draco and Blaise’s laps, “you always side with her!” It is truly unfortunate that Hari really cannot argue against the accusation because she only ever sided against Tracey when it was something inconvenient for her. With the option of arguing removed, Hari hums and turns back to her book.

Her unwavering support clearly is not enough for the half-blood who stubbornly declares, “I was telling Theo that muggle children sing a death ritual to curse each other.”

Hari clamps down on a laugh, keeping her face blank, because Tracey’s games of outright lying to their pureblood friends about muggles when they didn’t know enough to protest always proved hilarious. She can’t be sure but there was a very strong possibility that Draco truly believed that a magical entity named Bloody Mary was out there murdering muggle children who willingly called her in the mirror.

(Hari, feeling especially spiteful when she was seven years old, had taken the older girls who shunned her playing Bloody Mary as an opportunity. When all three of the girls had gone into the bathroom Hari had waited outside using her flimsy grasp on her magic to keep the door closed and unleash havoc inside. The screaming had brought the matron, who had no evidence and no way of pinning it on Hari and yet did so anyway because being proven guilty had never been a valid concept at Wools. She hadn’t regretted it even after two days without supper, but she had learned how to better cover her tracks.)

“Ring a Ring o' Rosie?” She raises an eyebrow before nodding, as serious as she can be when Theo looked increasingly alarmed, “oh, absolutely, they join hands and spin in a circle while chanting it. Whoever gets stuck in the middle is cursed to get ill and die.” Tracey looks particularly delighted at Hari’s assistance because Theo looks terrified and even the other girls are wide eyed.

Blaise tries to remain sceptical, but Hari is well aware he’s just as prone to the pureblood idiocy as the rest of them. “Are you having us on again?” He asks with narrowed eyes, shoving Theo’s head off his lap. Tracey looks to her, shaking her head as if disappointed and offended that he would question them.

Hari grins at him, “would I ever lie to you Blaise?” At least two of her friends snort though she doesn’t look to see who, “I saw a girl get caught in the middle of the circle once, they were carting her off two weeks later. She wasn’t as fast as me.” The girl in question had simply caught chicken pox and been sent off to isolate before it spread through Wools like a fire and Hari had been running from boys twice her size who weren’t interested in a childish game, but she carefully neglects those details.

Tracey nods solemnly, looking at him with wide eyes, “they’re probably accidentally drawing on old fairy magic. The curse gets you really fast.”

Despite the pureblood’s horror-stricken faces, they somehow manage not to break into hysterical laughter.

.

**_14:38_ **

Something hits Hari square in the chest. “Ouch.”

She catches the liquorice wand thrown at her next, utilising her seekers reflexes, and pulls a face at the pack of every flavoured beans in her lap. “Why am I being assaulted with sweets?” Hari asks, looking up to see Theo’s poor attempt at looking innocent, and then sees the too large pile of sweets taking up an entire seat.

“Since Draco decided to buy half the trolley, we’re sharing them out,” Pansy informs her whilst picking out her own favourites with a fierce glare at Daphne who keeps trying to pilfer all the cauldron cakes. Hari thinks she rather looks like a dragon hoarding treasure like in some of the stories she had heard as a child, the Gerard’s hadn’t much liked fantasy stories, but they had made a few exceptions. Daphne, utilising the brief distraction to grab one, smirks at Hari, “you haven’t heard anything we’ve said for an hour and Theo thought it might get your attention.”

Theo turns bright red and throws the Greengrass heir a glare for throwing him under the bus and no one has the heart to tell him he was an absolutely terrible liar.

Hari leans over, looking Pansy directly in the eye much like the daring knights and thieves in those stories, and takes one of her cauldron cakes with a bright grin and with everyone distracted by the betrayal on the girls face Hari slips some of the sweets into her pocket.

.

**_15: 12_ **

Pansy stabs long nails into Draco’s back as she urges the boys out so they can change out of their robes.

The closer they get to London the more detached Hari feels because the idea of not actively using her wand or spells every day is accompanied by a vague sense of dread. She doesn’t need to use her wand to take control of her magic, but she’s grown used to the weight of her blackthorn wand in her hand just as much as she’s grown used to the constant presence of at least one of her friends.

To be absent of both so suddenly for two months feels particularly unpleasant and she’s not sure whether she is going to hate that or dealing with the matron again more.

It is a particularly embarrassing experience to change into the ripped and oversized hand-me-downs that make up her muggle wardrobe because she can do many things with a needle and thread, but she cannot work miracles just yet and it puts her in stark contrast to the most likely insanely expensive clothes her friends wear.

Her embarrassment keeps her so busy that she ignores the conspiratorial look Pansy and Draco share with so little subtlety Hari thinks the two Slytherins should ask Salazar for forgiveness.

.

**_17: 24_ **

Hari had known there was not a chance in hell that the matron would be waiting for her at the station, it was why she saved some of the sweets in her pocket and rushed off the platform with her head down so she could find somewhere to sit outside and wait. The faster she got outside, the less likely she would meet any of her friend’s parents and Hari would hate to make such a terrible impression.

Nearly two hours later, the matron arrives in a taxi having not changed one bit over the school year. Her face was still pinched, making it look like her face would crack if she smiled, and if she didn’t boast how long she had been working at Wools then Hari could never have guessed her age for all the wrinkles and sagging jaw. Despite looking rather like a bulldog in Hari’s opinion, the matron still looks at her like she is dirt on her shoe, but she can’t recall a time the woman wore any other expression.

When she thinks about it, as rarely as she possibly can, Hari is not sure who is more to blame for the way she’s turned out. The Gerard’s for the first betrayal she can remember, the matron for turning her nose up at her and leaving her to fend for herself, or if it was her own fault for deciding to isolate herself and become cold. In an odd twist, she had spent much of the month before Rubeus Hagrid came with a Hogwarts letter in the library trying to understand if there was a scientific explanation to the way that she was. The local library hadn’t had much in terms of useful material leaving Hari to wonder if people like her were simply fundamentally different all the way down to their minds but that had been shot down when it became apparent that she wasn’t normal among wixen either.

Hari’s research had offered her two options to consider; either she had responded to her admittedly traumatic environment quite badly and attempted to separate herself mentally or Parselmouths shared in more than just the physical characteristics of their scaled friends. Hari had ceased her research there and thrown away her notes rather than consider the former.

“Come on girl,” the matron shouts and Hari grits her teeth but drags her trunk along and puts it in the boot of the taxi herself before getting into the back and pressing herself into the door to be as far away from the woman as she can. “You’ve missed dinner and if you want supper then I expect all your things to be put away quickly,” the matron informs her but stares straight out the window and Hari knows she certainly won’t be getting supper because that alone was an impossible task. Wools always served supper at half past six exactly and to take the trunk to the third floor with no help from person or magic would be cutting it close at best.

Mindful of the driver, Hari smiles so politely that it hurts, “of course miss, I’m terribly sorry that I couldn’t get an earlier train and caused so much hassle.” They both know that the letter Hagrid had given the woman mentioned the strict travel to Hogwarts and back because it was so exclusive they had to take special care with who knew its location. Hari couldn’t have gotten back to London any earlier without breaking the rules and taking a broom or a portkey, even if the matron doesn’t know that part specifically, and so to the matron it will sound like she was deliberately undermining her.

Which, really, she was. Hari never snaps at the matron, she never loses her temper, and she always remains unfailingly polite because she knows the woman hates it. Their silent and never-ending war was why Hari started it and made it her mask in the first place. 

The driver doesn’t even look in his mirror and the matrons face twists in a way Hari knows means there will be repercussions but considering the inevitability Hari won’t be getting supper she really doesn’t care what else the woman might do.

.

In an easy return to routine, Hari rarely leaves her room. No one had touched it because a rumour the room was cursed had spread through Wools like wildfire two years prior and the muggles would often cite it to explain her. It might have bothered her if she wasn’t the one to actually start the rumour to keep the more easily scared ones out of her way and Hari would be lying if she didn’t find it funny how the rumour had evolved since then.

Hari knows for a fact that some of the younger kids insisted that she had simply appeared at Wools one day to terrify them and no one knew where she came from, some of the older kids had tried to dispel it because at least half of them had been there longer than Hari and had watched her grow stronger but she still hears it whispered at mealtimes.

The room was strangely bare compared to most rooms at Wools because even if the matron frowned, she would not punish anyone else for personalising their room. Even if Hari had wanted to decorate it she knew she would almost certainly get punished and have to tear it all down so room twenty-eight had sterile white walls, a scuffed wooden floor, and the standard furniture for every bedroom. Her trunk, despite being smaller than most of her housemates, still takes a considerable amount of the floor space because it certainly would not fit in the wardrobe. Symbols drawn in her own blood, long since dry, lined the door frame and the staff of Wools all pretended not to see should they ever pass by when the door was open.

Just like she guessed when leaving Kings Cross, Hari misses supper on the first night back and the matron locks her in her room every night for the first week. Considering the fact that the matron knows Hari hates being trapped and especially in small, enclosed rooms Hari decides to pretend she doesn’t care at all by not even looking the woman’s way.

Maybe it is just easier now she knows one day she can kill the woman by simply spitting in her drink and every time the matron punishes her, her marked days grow even fewer. Hari doesn’t say that the only obstacle in the way of the matron’s death is Severus Snape and time and instead smiles at the woman with an increasingly vicious edge.

Hari uses this isolation to fix up some of her clothes, adding three skirts and five blouses to her wardrobe, and adjusts her school robes to save money come time to go to Diagon again. The older residents of Wools, those who were cautious of her but not quite terrified because they still remembered the girl who had not spoken for a week after a social worker brought her from the hospital and hadn’t started fighting back for months afterwards, come to her offering their pitiful allowance for her skills.

If she wasn’t putting money aside for better school supplies and books then she would have laughed at the nerve of them to ask for anything of her, but she makes the rare exception to ignoring the other residents entirely.

It’s safe to say that, while the other members of staff talk about how much Hari had improved at Hogwarts if she wasn’t scaring the other kids away, the matron didn’t think the same way and tried to reassert the order of things. That order being Hari only getting attention when it was because she did something wrong.

.

Cory Richards, fifteen years old, only been at Wool’s for a year and a half, and one of the matron’s favourites, corners her before breakfast. It’s not for the first time because all of the favourites would get a spark of an idea every once in a while, usually because the matron would complain about her attitude or her manners or the fact she existed, and they would try to win rewards by going after Hari for her.

The only thing that surprises Hari is how quickly one of them tried it, clearly the muggles had gotten a little too brave without her around to remind them why she should be left alone. Otherwise, it is not at all abnormal in the daily routine of Wools to find someone trying to scare her which is proven by the fact no less than three people walk by when he boxes her in at the wall outside her room.

“Thought your fancy school was meant to be teaching you manners.”

Cory tries to snatch at Hari’s bag which is loose on her shoulder and holds the book Daphne had given her for Yule because despite having already read it cover to cover Hari has nothing else to do. A morning sat at the furthest end of the poorly maintained garden reading had seemed a pleasant enough way to get out of her room without needing to talk to anyone.

Hari’s exile to her room had been as self-imposed as it was necessary because on the first night back she had considered that someone might keep an eye on her now, that someone might see the tight control she has on her magic and the way she turns it on the muggles, and the possible repercussions were enough to dissuade her from her usual approach. She would wait until she talked to the grass snakes to see if they had noticed anything strange. Of course, Cory had to test her just when she decides to show some restraint.

“Do you even know what manners are?” Hari grabs the strap tighter in one hand and lets her magic build under her skin should he try it again. She grins up at him, resting her back against the wall like he hadn’t shoved her against it, and tilts her head, “still playing Rugby? I play a sport now too, you know, I’ll let you guess which one, but I can’t imagine what’d happen if I broke an arm or something. Some of those breaks don’t ever heal right either.”

He drops his arms suddenly like she might break one right there and then if he kept them right in her line of sight, but his face is a rather angry plum colour. “Knew Miss Engel was right – you were at freak school, weren’t you?” Cory demands, working himself up with barely a word from her because the matron did that job for her, “if you try and use that freak stuff on me then I’ll…”

“You’ll what, Cory? You’re right, they teach us all about Satan there and I think I could ask him to pay you a visit. He owes me, after all, seeing as he has my soul.”

Hari suddenly and politely waves at Miss Peters approaching from down the hall but drops her smile completely because Peters has always had a soft spot for her but would not tolerate such falseness. Peters worked every weekday and some Saturdays and had her own allocated room due to how often she stayed overnight because the woman was responsible for the infants and toddlers despite how few there were these days. Peters had also been responsible for Hari when she was first taken to Wools and had then been largely responsible for the Gerard’s adopting her so Hari imagines it’s safe to say that her soft spot is entirely out of guilt, but she still passes her food and books during punishments and wasn’t afraid to punish even the matron’s favourites, so Hari tries to be genuine in their interactions.

When Hari eventually tears down Wools brick by brick, she will make sure Peters isn’t inside when it crumbles in on itself like the black hole it had always been.

Cory scrambles to right himself and look friendly but seeing as no one was just friendly with Hari it’s not all that convincing. “What’s going on here?” Peters sounds expectant, looking entirely at Cory, and Hari makes a show of smoothing down her clothes even if the only damage is her top being ever so slightly askew.

“I was just going to breakfast when Cory wanted to ask about my new school,” Hari tells her and it’s disappointing how relieved he seems when he should have immediately asked himself why she was covering for him. “I’m just going now; would you like me to walk you out Miss Peters?” She offers and the woman nods, probably because she thinks Hari needs her to ward away anyone else trying to corner her when what Hari needs is an excuse to put distance between herself and Cory.

.

Just before dinner an almighty crash raises the heads of all but Hari who has made sure she is sat at a table in plain view of everyone. A moment later comes a cry of pain and various members of staff run off to the bottom of the first-floor stairs where Cory Richards had unfortunately fallen and broken his leg in two places. A terrible accident with no one to blame but old stairs and dim lighting because no one else had been on the stairs with him.

The matron, not caring that Hari could not have possibly pushed him, alleges that she had planted something on the stairs to make him fall and drags her to the basement by her braided hair while hissing about demons and how horrid Hari must be to have sold her soul.

Hari hates the basement, but she thinks three days down there is a fine deal in exchange for knowing Cory definitely wouldn’t be showing off at Rugby anytime soon.

.

An endless source of amusement in the otherwise bleak summer is the letters from her friends that seem planned to arrive one day at a time in an endless loop. Their owls stop by her window to show her they are there and then they drop the letters by the door and wait on the fence to collect her reply and every time the matron looks out the window she screams again.

The Malfoy eagle makes the matron scream so loudly; Hari can barely look at the woman with a straight face all day whenever it arrives. She doesn’t think it’s an accident that Draco’s letters are suspiciously short after she tells him how scared the woman is of Zira which makes them write more often.

Hari’s birthday, usually only acknowledged by Peters, brings presents from her friends and leaves all their post birds lining the fences of Wools waiting for her replies of gratitude. A box of ridiculously expensive chocolates from Draco that most likely cost around the same as the dress Pansy sends and some jewellery from Blaise with a note stating that he will be finding a way to force her to attend and suffer the horrors of the Malfoy Yule ball this year. Theo and Tracey had united to buy her more Sleekeazy and some hair pins that might be adorned with emeralds. Upon opening Daphne’s present, however, Hari doubles over laughing because a shiny dagger decorated with emeralds and diamonds sits in a box alongside a note telling her shards of glass were not elegant enough to attempt murder with.

Hari, in a moment of no control at all, shatters every window on the ground floor of Wools when the matron snatches up her presents with a nasty grin and declares she will be confiscating her ‘ _objects of devil worship_ ’. Hari’s arguments that chocolate isn’t paraphernalia hold no salt with a woman who claims it must be poisoned specifically to kill her as if Hari had ever planned on offering to share.

She doesn’t think it would help her case to point out that she already has a plan on how she’s going to poison the woman and it certainly wouldn’t be so easy to discover or as simple as poisoned chocolates.

With the very sudden destruction comes an opportunity and Hari immediately takes it, stealing back the gifts and sending them back with hastily written apologies and promises that she appreciated them. No one protests on Hari’s behalf, not that they ever did, when the blame immediately lands at her door.

No one ever worries about her for that very reason and, in a way that feels very odd, she hopes her friends don’t worry when she won’t be able to reply to them anytime soon because the matron decides that the rod to the back of the arms and a week in the basement is a suitable punishment for taking back her own possessions and inviting the devil into Wools.

Hari’s rather sure that Draco, the drama queen he was, might bounce off the walls in worry and Pansy may just kill him for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adrian did in fact say a little prayer and ask Ron to pull him back if it looked like Hari was going to murder him on the spot. I know I said I didn't want Adrian to be an annoying bastard but I didn't expect to love him as much as I do as a secondary character because he really has no concept of giving up on making Hari tolerate him. 
> 
> Also I didn't talk about it before but Hari's wand is almost the exact same as canon down to the brother wand bit except it's made of blackthorn. I was reading about wand woods and the notes on them and it felt like a better fit for Hari not just because of the dark arts because she's very much a warrior in her plans and how quick she is to raise her magic. Adrian's wand is made of Ebony wood and unicorn hair if anyone was curious.


	7. It's fair to say, you will still haunt me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa Malfoy. Enough said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm early ! The power of queen Narcissa Malfoy. Fun fact, in my working plan for this fic this chapter was honestly just titled 'Narcissa fucking Malfoy' so if it wasn't obvious she's truly my favourite of the Malfoy fam. This is also the chapter where the tags come in mind because it's all a huge mess but the Malfoy's are good to Hari and are just the honorary parents of the alphabet gang. 
> 
> Once again this chapter has multiple references to abuse the same as last chapter, a few references to period typical racism, and the general unpleasantness of Wools. There's also a few lore dumps in the second half but I've been holding onto some of this stuff for a while and I'm glad to share it even if there's nothing entirely world changing. There is a small religious reference later in the chapter and I mean absolutely no offence to anyone if I got anything wrong there, I sourced it....and now can't find that source to double check myself.
> 
> Back to the regularly scheduled programme; thank you all for the comments and kudos and an extra huge thank you for sticking with me on this. Once again, I have no beta and no canon knowledge but that's okay because HP is actually a shared fever dream we're all doing what we want with.

If you were to ask the average wixen about Lady Narcissa Malfoy, then the answers would be simple. Most would regard her as a rather simple woman who could have become a healer and was most likely a death eater herself but, overall, was a typical pureblood lady who could dismantle you with a pleasant smile.

The average wixen would mostly be wrong.

Narcissa Malfoy née Black is a complicated woman with a mind sharp enough to spar with Dumbledore himself. She had long since taken advantage of the way pureblood ladies were overlooked by their counterparts to run circles around them all and it had been her own schemes that helped elevate her husbands’ position during the first war.

The average wixen did not notice or even consider this because Narcissa has also always found herself in a very peculiar position. She was the youngest daughter, yet it had fallen to her to make a good marriage and make their house proud. She loves family above all, yet her generation of Blacks had found themselves divided and separated and at war with each other starting the day her eldest sister left.

Narcissa is a dark witch and that is something she feels to her very core and that is something she is so very proud of she would never deny it. And that same fact had left her with very few places to go in wizarding Britain and she had refused to abandon the roots the Blacks had laid in the magical foundations of the country. Allying with the Dark Lord had been inevitable, and she would never regret fighting for her family and her magic and the traditions she had been raised in.

But Narcissa is also a mediwitch and a mother and she cannot stand wilful harm to any child, so when her lord had gone to kill the Potter boy a decade ago she had cried. She had put Draco in his cot and cried into Lucius’s arms because it was such a horrible price to pay even in this dreadful war.

When the Potter girl disappeared from public life, never talked of or seen despite the family’s newfound fame, she had assumed the worst as all purebloods had. The conclusion had been simple: whatever had happened that night to claim the life of the Dark Lord had also claimed the girls. Narcissa had cried again because their lord had sworn no harm would befall the girl who could only prove useful to them one day, and she had sent her condolences to the family despite their animosity and opposite sides in the war.

Then Draco had written to them at the start of term, declaring the Potter girl was alive the entire time but with muggles, and Narcissa had been so filled with disgust that Lucius had to stop her sending a howler to both the Potters and her cousin for letting that rumour circle among purebloods for so long. He had stopped her sending a letter at all to the Potter’s, but she had sent one to her cousin to ask why, in far politer terms, he had let his goddaughter be raised by muggles while the world thought her dead.

She had yet to receive a reply.

Draco’s letters had consistently found a way to circle back to Harini Potter, painting a curious picture of a girl who didn’t like muggles, was as smart as a whip, and undeniably a Slytherin. Harini Potter had somehow made herself the centerpoint of Slytherin house, judging by how many of Narcissa’s friends reported their children had talked of the girl too, but most importantly the girl had won her dragon’s respect.

That was a feat enough to shock because Narcissa knows better than anyone that Draco was quick to make judgement and slow to make friends and utterly set into his ways already. Harini had won his respect and his loyalty because he had even declined spending Yule with family to teach the girl how to celebrate.

(Lucius had also needed a firm hit to the back to stop him choking on his tea when Draco had requested anything on parseltongue for Harini with the implication she was a parselmouth being rather obvious.)

So Narcissa had been very vocal in return about wanting to meet Draco’s newest friend at the platform, teasing the poor boy that she had to meet the girl who had finally stolen him away, and she was rather sure Lucius did too even if he wouldn’t admit it. It was hard to think any Potter could be a friend after a lifetime at war regardless of if that Potter was just a child.

Even if the wizarding world would never admit it, the war had not been started by the Dark Lord, the war had been declared in the days after Grindelwald’s defeat when magical Europe had decided the true danger was dark magic and not a mad man using anti creature sentiment. Dark wizards had been at war for most of the century, fighting with their words and politics, and it was simply the Dark Lord who had taken to violence and left the wizarding world with no way to ignore them any longer.

The girl was innocent and ignorant of that and Narcissa might even wager that she shared more in common with them than with her blood, but Lucius was as proud as he was suspicious, and a schoolgirl was not exempt.

Harini had been nowhere to be seen on the platform and Draco had apologised on her behalf, passing on an excuse that she had to reach her ride home, but then proceeded to share that he thought she was embarrassed by her muggle clothing. Narcissa had not missed the way Draco and Pansy had been plotting something because they had been pulling the same face since they were five and tried to sneak into Lucius’s study for adventures and trouble.

Narcissa consoles herself with the fact they will get another chance to meet the girl, willing to wait at the platform in September for an hour to catch her if necessary, and urges Draco to invite her to dinner for her birthday.

Poor Zira had been in need of extra treats for all the letters the two were exchanging and yet, somehow, for all those letters the invitation is not extended until he sends it alongside her birthday gift. Draco had done a remarkable job at pretending not to notice her increasing disapproval, but he still couldn’t hide his blush at how very long it took him to work up the courage to simply ask.

Not even a day later, Draco walks circles around the sitting room and Lucius refuses to look up from a bill proposal lest he be under verbal assault once again. It was a tried-and-true strategy, employed when both his wife and son had murder on their minds and he was vastly outnumbered, and Narcissa would certainly be extracting an apology from him later for his callousness.

The gift had been quickly returned with an apology and the explanation had made her blood boil and temper flare. Draco had not sat down once since Zira’s return. Narcissa knows her son, how he allowed himself to be vulnerable with so few and he was incredibly protective of those friends, and she knows Harini Potter had found her way onto that short list.

.

Two days on and Narcissa has to send Draco to the Parkinson’s for the afternoon in the hopes that Pansy might be able to stop him pacing circles into the manor. Or, if Pansy was similarly furious, the two might put their minds together to continue their plotting and maybe even plan on how to abduct their friend. She would take any result that might make him sit still at dinner rather than attacking his food in a way that nearly breaks the plate.

Instead of peace reigning in Malfoy manor, Severus Snape offers very little warning before flooing into the receiving room and scaring Dobby by merely the expression on his deathly pale face. Narcissa immediately requests a pot of tea and retires to her solarium to wait for his arrival because in their last letter he bemoaned the fact that he was meant to be spending his day taking Harini Potter to Diagon for her school supplies.

Severus takes the seat opposite her with absolutely no grace and a scowl so pronounced she worried his face might set that way, but she’s also known him for near enough two decades and knows this is something more than the typical exhaustion from dealing with a schoolgirl. Even one he complained about quite so much as young Miss Potter.

She pours one cup of tea with a single sugar and no milk before handing it to him and he takes it without protest before quickly and silently draining it. Narcissa prepares her own cup before she dares breaks the silence with none of her usual politeness. “I thought you were taking the Potter daughter for her school supplies.”

He places the empty cup back on the small table between them. “She prefers Gerard,” Severus corrects, and his scowl deepens as if frustrated it had become natural for him to correct people on her behalf. Narcissa, privately, thinks it was about time that he connected with one of his students in a way that wasn’t just endless detentions and general protectiveness. Not that she would ever tell him that because he had told her time and time again over the last decade how very much he despised teaching. Similarly, he had complained for most of the school year that he had found himself hosting the girl in his office at least once a fortnight because he had made the mistake of leaving an open invitation to talk at her door.

“They told me to come back again tomorrow.” He takes a deep breath, sitting up straight in his chair and refusing to look at her. “I peeked into one of their minds. From our…chats over the school year I had suspicions and wanted to see why she couldn’t go today.” She hasn’t heard him sound like that, so bone-weary and angry, since he was a boy himself talking of his father and the war.

Narcissa has her own growing suspicions, the seeds of which had been planted when Draco first told her that Harini hated muggles, but she also has tact and will not rush into voicing them. “Did Miss Gerard run away?” She asks instead because that was the approach her cousin had taken when he tired of his mother and their family.

Severus chuckles humourlessly. “Merlin, I wish she had.” He eyes her carefully, scowl fading to look at her not as a friend but as an ally, and it’s a look any former Slytherin should recognise. Any good Slytherin should know that trust should never be handed out easily because even friends could be bought, the first war had proven that, and one must always reassess just how likely that was before giving it away. “She told me this in trust and the only reason I am sharing with you, _Cissa_ , is that if anyone can actually help her it would be you Malfoys.”

There were many forms of assistance they could lend, and she runs through just which he might mean before landing on the old and well-maintained political connections Lucius often prided himself on. Narcissa is immensely glad she chose to hold this conversation in the comfort of the solarium but also wishes she had requested firewhisky instead of tea or at least a drop of both. “Neither Lucius nor I mean the girl any harm, Severus, and I would hope you know us better than to think we would act against her or her interests.”

Unless those interests put Draco in danger or posed a threat to dark wizards but that goes unsaid.

Severus doesn’t talk again until they both have a new cup of tea in hand. “The muggles there are some of the…the worst kind. The kind we targeted in the last war.” Narcissa had never participated in those hunts but her hands were far from clean, it had fallen to her to find much of the information on who to target and then to clean up the death eaters who returned. It had been her who marked his fathers daily schedule down to when the man dropped all pretence and stopped adding scotch to his coffee at two in the afternoon and it had been her who helped devise a way to kill him that would not lead back to them.

It had also fallen to Narcissa to clean him up afterwards and nurse him out of shock because Lucius had tried to offer firewhisky and celebrate the miserable old bastards’ death when it was neither the time nor place. The firewhisky had come with the bonfire in the garden later where Narcissa had been particularly vicious in sharing what she hoped was happening to him in the afterlife. “They used to have her exorcised on a disturbingly regular basis, claiming her magic was evil.”

Horror overtakes her and she doubts Lucius could dissuade her from sending a howler to the Potter’s or visiting her lord cousin for the first time in years to punch him square in the face. It wasn’t fitting for a lady of her position, but Sirius would certainly deserve it for not invoking his rights as a godfather or even clearing up the rumour. Narcissa has not heard of muggles subjecting magical children to that brand of torture in years but, in training as a healer, she had read on it plenty because of how often it started the process of becoming an obscurial. Just once was tantamount to murder but to repeat it was torture, a slow death to consume the child from the inside out as a part of their own being was forced to turn on them. “We are going to the ministry right now.”

Severus shakes his head, face as grim as hers must be, and it occurs to her this must be why he shared almost nothing about his regular chats with the girl. “She would lie Cissa,” he says with the same softness he slipped into when he called Draco a brat. “Hari would lie through her teeth to any ministry official who went there. She would look them in the eye and deny it all even as they used veritaserum or legilimency on the muggles.” Narcissa does not care, she doesn’t care if she has to go get the girl herself while an investigation goes on, and she doesn’t even care if it would break any trust the girl has in Severus, because Narcissa thinks of obscurials and the horrible fate they suffer, and she is not willing to allow that suffering to continue.

“She knows that if the ministry were told then she would be forced to live with the Potter’s, and she’s told me outright she refuses to stay with them. Between their love of muggles and abandoning her, I would be surprised if she didn’t immediately burn the place down.” He pauses and Narcissa forces herself not to grit her teeth because she is a talented woman who can listen whilst planning on how to stun him and retrieve the girl before anyone returns for supper. “Besides, she reassured me that they stopped that two years ago. No – rather, the matron of the place has her locked in the basement.”

He sounds rather more frustrated at that than the years of exorcisms but, in what little defence she is reluctant to give him, this discovery was far more sudden. “They are locking a magical child in a basement?” Narcissa repeats slowly and considers who among the ranks of reformed death eaters might enjoy a trip into the muggle world.

Severus looks at her like he knows exactly what she’s thinking and only looks mildly disapproving which means it would be really quite easy to convince him to get on board. “They said she would be ready tomorrow, but I imagine it simply means they’re going to let her bathe before returning to the cruelty. I don’t know what to do, Cissa.” He admits with such a fine tremble to his hands that she almost misses it. “Hari is a brilliant girl. I was loathe to admit it at first but she truly is, and she usually places too much value on logic, but she is convinced that Dumbledore won’t let her leave unless she goes to the Potters.”

What he doesn’t say but both of them probably think is that Hari might not be too far off the truth. The likelihood that it was a conspiracy put together by a child was equal to the chance it was part of a wider truth they had no hopes of ever understanding, because Dumbledore played such overcomplicated games of chess they could only look on at the train wreck he continuously delayed. Narcissa, already having made plans on both how to abduct the girl and burn down her orphanage with no magical trace left behind, makes minimal adjustments to one of those plans and forces one of her thinnest smiles. “Go home Severus, I’ll sort everything. Don’t worry I won’t involve any officials, but I will owl you tomorrow.”

He lets her escort him all the way back to the floo before he fixes her with a very stern look he probably scares Gryffindors with but must know could not even slightly dissuade her. “Try to refrain from murder or actual bodily harm.”

Narcissa smiles truly, a quirk up of the lips and a glint in her blue eyes, before shaking her head and gesturing to take himself home quickly. “I make no such promises Severus.”

.

Lucius arrives home first and, finding her preparing one of the guest rooms, simply accepts she has some kind of plan and asks her who they’re receiving and will he have to retrieve their best wines. Narcissa relays less than half of her conversation with Severus, shares her full plan and itinerary for the next month, and he agrees after only a few words and confirmation that he shouldn’t go straight back to work to call in a favour from Fudge himself.

When Draco returns from the Parkinson’s, not that much calmer than when he left, she informs him that Hari will be staying with them for the rest of the summer. Lucius sighs at the knowledge their son was no doubt going to make a fool of himself many times over in the next month if he kept blushing like that.

.

Wool’s Home for Orphaned Children had been founded in 1919 after the end of the first world war by a muggle widower who lost his eldest son to war and his youngest son to disease. Stephen Wool had taken the inheritance his sons could never receive and used it to buy up property to quickly convert to hold as many rooms as possible. The construction had finished within a year solely because no time had been taken to make it look particularly pleasant from the outside, leaving a tall building surrounded by a courtyard and high fencing that left the place feeling rather like a prison for many residents.

In the 1930s, the matron Cole had petitioned Wool to shorten the name and he had obliged, shortening it to Wool’s Orphanage, and Cole had become very suddenly determined to cheer the place up some by tearing up the courtyard to plant a garden in the late 1940s. It was the 1960s that had brought the biggest change to Wools as an institution; Wool had left the institute to the staff to continue a legacy far more miserable than he imagined upon his death only a decade after the second war and Cole had decided to take an early retirement.

Cole embodied the expected values of a woman facing middle age at the turn of the century, staunchly catholic and always maintaining a perfect demeanour even when faced with the more troublesome children, and anyone on the outside looking in wouldn’t have known quite how vicious she could be when it was hidden by smiles and a timid visage. When it came time to pass down the leadership of Wools, she had taken no more than five months before selecting Ruth Engel, secure in the knowledge the woman would take her warnings to heart.

These warnings all focused entirely on certain children marked by the devil himself. Cole had spun a cautionary tale of a boy residing there from birth, who she could tell was evil from the way his mother was alone and he was so quiet as a babe, and who had never been quick to bond with any other child. No small part of her dislike for the boy had been the circumstance of his birth, the presumed wedlock and shame of an interracial relationship, but she had shared such a harrowing tale of what might happen without a strong hand to curb that kind of strangeness.

A large part of her belief had been born from ignorance and hatred, and only a little from the state of medicine at the time. What she had taken as a sign of evil had simply been a malnourished infant after his mother spent the last months of pregnancy barely surviving and the fact that magic was all that kept him alive, so of course the child had neither cried nor screamed with the little energy he had for people who had proven they would never come.

The Matron Engel had held fast to those warnings. When the rest of the area had been bought up for industrial developments she had refused to sell, and when those developments had been abandoned, she had still stayed firm in keeping Wools standing as that same black hole of sterile white walls and a garden that would never flourish. Engel had been determined to remain a force steering children in her personally decided correct direction and had kept Wools open by force despite the inevitability it would be torn down by the twentieth century for both a lack of funds and a lack of demand.

Still, Engel had gotten her wish to fulfil Cole’s legacy the day Harini Gerard had been returned to Wools after near enough two years. The authorities had informed her of the circumstances, recommending child psychologists for the sudden muteness of the girl, and Engel had dismissed it all with a polite smile because Cole had warned her about children marked by the devil and the girl’s guardians had seen it time and time again to be abandoned three times over. When the muteness broke after a month of a stern hand and strict rules, Engel had decided that she had been proven right and it had simply been an act to earn sympathy so the girl could better hide her strangeness.

To maintain the legacy of her predecessor, Engel had instead made a legacy of Tom Riddle by upholding the very same self-fulfilling prophecy that had created him. Tell a child they are evil for simply existing, for doing something they have no control over, and it should be no surprise when they accept that as fact and start turning it against you. The legacy of Tom Riddle was one no wixen would want to permeate Wool’s half a century later, especially not Riddle himself, but it had held strong enough to recreate the same kind of disconnect with humanity and anger at the world in his successor as it had him. Unfortunately for that same world, both Tom Riddle and Harini Gerard were as brilliant as they were ruthless with every intention of using their talents against the world that had created them.

Narcissa Malfoy knows only a vague timeline of Wools history and nothing of the years the boy that would become the Dark Lord had resided there, because her connections were excellent but even they couldn’t dig up such deeply buried history overnight.

The Malfoy family appear outside Wools Orphanage and could not stand out more against the too grey street if they tried. Wools looms menacingly against a blue sky like all colour had been drained from it and most of the buildings surrounding it look the same with the only other residences being a few flats at the end of the road that looked even less inviting.

Lucius takes one look at the name on the tall fence and then takes another as if to confirm he had read it right before a dreadful frown takes over his face. She squeezes his arm lightly where her elbow is hooked with his and she knows it’s serious when he doesn’t immediately share what’s on his mind. “The girl’s theory that someone wants her here holds substance,” he shares with her in little more than a whisper as they walk.

As expected, the inside is as unpleasant as the outside with a small waiting area of plastic seats, a muggle at the front desk, and the distant sound of children yelling. “We’re here to see Harini Gerard. I was told you were expecting someone to collect her.” Lucius says before the muggle can stumble over her words, but her eyes only seem to get wider.

“We were expecting one man…” The muggle points out but judging by the nerves in her voice she was either shocked someone wanted to see the girl or suspicious of just who they were.

Narcissa has come to enjoy the idea of breaking her own rule of not participating in the hunts and it helps to know what the building looked like inside and out. “The plan changed. Harini is friends with our son and it made far more sense for them to shop together.” She smiles and knows the woman isn’t aware of just how close every muggle in the building is to being on the receiving end of a _crucio_ until their hearts give out. Narcissa has used the same smile on Albus Dumbledore before and he had walked away as quickly as polite society allowed. “Actually, Harini will be staying with us for the rest of the month. I don’t imagine you’ll be too upset by that.”

The muggle flounders before finding her footing to stand and nod. “If you’ll follow me to the visitor’s room, I’ll fetch matron Engel and…the girl.”

If she wasn’t so committed to her new fantasy, Narcissa would be as reluctant to take note of the limited decoration as she is to touch anything. The visitor’s room is much the same and no one even considers taking a seat to wait. What Narcissa does do, at the first hint of footsteps, is cast a silent charm to better eavesdrop.

“I told you to leave all that – that strangeness out of my home girl. I may not be able to rid you of these demons, but I won’t allow you to bring them in and ruin the other children too!” The faintest of German accents hisses and Lucius hisses in turn when Narcissa digs her nails into his arm.

“But, miss, I thought all the demons lived down the street so how could I have brought them here? Didn’t you see plenty of them in the taxi – _oh_ , I don’t think any of London is safe. Maybe you should move somewhere more remote –” Narcissa bites back a certain unforgivable at the rather sharp sound that follows.

After close to a year Narcissa finally sees the girl. Harini took after her fathers colouring but even that couldn’t hide the red hint to her cheek and the girl had clearly gone to a lot of effort to disguise any vulnerability in the face of the wizarding world. Most obvious to Narcissa, as a Black witch, is how strongly Harini had taken to their blood with the same sharpness to her features that the Black women were known for. There is a cut on one cheek, bruises on the backs of her hands, and most striking of all is the scar that takes over part of her face.

Still the girl had done well with muggle means, picking out a modest skirt and long-sleeved blouse that wouldn’t stand out too terribly in Diagon. All clearly adjusted by herself based on the matching golden embroidery on the collar and skirt and the fact Draco had shared just how often the girl brought out her sowing kit.

Surprise at not seeing the potions master is clear in Harini’s eyes even if it doesn’t show on her face and she adjusts herself slightly by clasping her hands behind her back to emphasise her good posture. Impressive considering Narcissa can see just how tightly the old woman is clutching her arm. “Rachel tells me you want to take her for the rest of the month?” The woman, presumably Engel, sneers. “It’ll ease the trouble she’s been causing here, if you’re sure.”

Narcissa never thought she could see such hatred in a child but Harini’s green eyes seem to try and burn the woman to ashes on the spot. “I’m sorry for all the trouble, miss, I imagine I cut into your schedule. This is around the time you scare the toddlers, right?” Harini says with such a polite smile and sweet voice that anyone not paying attention might even miss the malice underneath.

Engel doesn’t even offer a goodbye, retreating like being in the room any longer might cause her to catch some disease, but as soon as she’s out the door Harini bows her head and curtseys. “Lord and Lady Malfoy, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Good morning to you too, Draco.”

Lucius seems both quietly and pleasantly surprised, but Draco had told them that she had devoured every book she could find on wizarding culture and pureblood society. Narcissa is extremely proud of Draco for showing restraint at not rolling his eyes at the needless formality.

“There’s no need for that, Miss Gerard. Now, Professor Snape found himself rather busy today, so we offered to let you stay with us until term starts. It’ll be far easier to get your school supplies that way and we’ve been eager to meet you regardless.” Lucius informs her.

The only visible sign of resistance is the way Harini’s mouth pinches ever so slightly in resisting the urge to frown. “I couldn’t possibly accept, Lord Malfoy. It’s unfair of me to place such a burden on your household.” Her polite tone is far more earnest now and there is no doubt in Narcissa’s mind that it was as practiced as her accent.

“Nonsense!” Narcissa insists in much the same way she tells Severus she expects him to stay for dinner and wants no argument. “You are no burden; in fact, it would be our pleasure to host you and I won’t hear any more protests. Draco, why don’t you help Miss Gerard to pack.” Clearly Harini’s manners extend to not arguing with a lady because the girl quirks a smile at Draco and offers a hand.

Narcissa looks to Lucius as soon as the door closes. “Did you feel it?” She asks with bated breath.

“Dark magic,” he nods. “It was certainly her…to be this strong without declaring.”

She’s not actually sure why either of them are quite so surprised. Dorea Potter had been a Black once, and even if the woman hadn’t been so staunchly against the rigorous approach towards blood purity the main branch of the family had taken, she had still followed the Black ways until her death. It was just a pleasant twist that some part of the woman lived on in her granddaughter’s magic.

“She’s made herself an excellent group. I’m sure they will guide her – Draco will probably volunteer himself.”

Lucius hums in agreement. “I only hope her blood ties don’t dissuade her. She would be an excellent asset to the lord should he ever return.” He near enough shrivels under her glare. “Miss Gerard would make an excellent member of the dark,” he quickly corrects himself.

It eases her glare slightly but does turn her attention back to what he said outside. “What did you mean, that she might be right?”

He clearly considers his words in a way he rarely did in her presence. “I cannot tell you all that I know. However, Dumbledore is aware of this institution and the danger it poses to magical children.” Lucius shares ever so carefully, “he saw another dark wizard left here once. No, it’s far too much of a coincidence that the Potter child with a dark core was abandoned _here_.”

Narcissa schools her expression away from a raging inferno into the calmness expected of a pureblood lady in an effort to restrain herself before she decides to actually go find her cousin and beat sense into he and his husband like she had as a child.

.

Hari had not expected the Malfoys. Her magic keeps whipping around inside of her leaving her to feel like she might be torn apart because humiliation is the only thing she can feel. A lord and lady, the parents of one of her friends, had seen her in a place like this having to accept the matron’s treatment without any retaliation.

She curses all those who came before her who didn’t burn the place to the ground and knows that she won’t make the same mistake.

“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed,” Draco says behind her, pretending not to look around the room. “Mother and father both know that muggles are animals.” She offers him a smile because he had the strangest habit of picking up on her mood when her magic felt quite as wild as it does now. Draco also does not comment on the bareness of her room which helps ground her slightly.

One of the few benefits that came from keeping her room quite so empty is that she had barely anything to unpack in the first place. It should be even faster to leave. “What’s this place?” Draco asks curiously, looking at the picture on her desk but not touching.

Hari looks at him for a moment, deciding on if she wants to share or not, before raising a finger to her lips. She pricks her finger on her own fang and smears the drop of blood over a specific rune on the door. “That’s blood magic,” Draco breathes as the protection falls into place over the room and she grins at him with a hint of fang.

“I didn’t know what it was until this year. It always came naturally to me,” she dismisses truthfully because Draco deserved something in return for his sensitivity. “This one stops anyone from coming in or eavesdropping without my invitation.” She places the last of her things in her trunk before carefully picking up the picture that remained with her wherever she went. “This is the first place I apparated. I had used accidental magic before then but this one…this was when I knew I was better than muggles. I had proof of how much better I was.”

Her magic settles, resting at the quiet ever-present buzz under her skin she was used to, and she smiles softly. “What muggle could ever find the house on fire and apparate half an hour away? They tried to say I must have run off and gotten lost in a panic, but I knew the truth – I was superior to all of them. So, when the matron looks down at me, I look at this and remind myself that one day I’ll be able to repay the favour.”

Draco doesn’t speak, she wonders if he even breathes, and she has to admit that she quite likes that about him. The way he could hang on her every word some days. She puts the photo in her trunk and closes it before looking at him. “Maybe you can come with me when I destroy this place.”

He blushes so red that she smiles rather fondly at him and brings down the blood magic, only to find Draco struggling to carry her trunk for her. Seeing as he avoids meeting her eyes, she decides to leave him to it without any help.

Hari can’t help but think of just how out of place the Malfoy’s look even without the robes typical of wixen and doesn’t doubt they must be eager to get away from Wools. Lord Malfoy, fondly exasperated with his heir, casts a subtle charm on the trunk since Draco will neither give it up nor ask help anytime soon. As soon as they leave the walls of Wools, Lord Malfoy clears his throat. “Do you know of a spot that is safe to apparate from?”

She glances over the side streets ahead to think of which one would work best. “Wools is the only real residential holdover so most of the side streets are safe. Muggles tend to avoid the area.” She nods to one lane in particular, wedged between a warehouse and an old brewery which had never been in use as far as she could remember, but the patriarch looks incredibly uncomfortable at the idea. Hari doesn’t blame him, the Malfoys didn’t look like they would be good in a physical fight, and muggles weren’t going to wait for him to whip out a wand. She offers a small smile in an attempt to be reassuring. “There’s a local gang of boys who left Wools, they don’t go there during the day but it’s their territory. They leave me and anyone I’m with alone though – I keep them on a tight leash.”

They weren’t particularly scary, that group of boys who had slowly left over the last four years, but some of them certainly looked it.

Lord Malfoy raises his eyebrows just a fraction but must put enough trust in her claim to walk towards the indicated lane. In direct contrast, his wife smiles. “A tight leash?” Lady Malfoy echoes and Hari nods.

“Muggles are generally useless, but they can be trained if you’re careful. They think they’re helping protect a little girl who can’t help herself and I don’t try to dissuade them.” The fact that the leader of the gang had left before Hari had started to show just what she could do helped immensely because no matter what he was told, he was convinced it was just his guidance teaching her how to protect herself.

Draco snorts because it’s probably the least surprising thing she’s shared with him all year and only ducks his head slightly when his mother scolds him.

Hari’s first experience with apparating is terrible, ending with her barely keeping a hold of Lady Malfoys arm to not fall on her ass in the Malfoy’s very nice receiving room. “Side along apparation is quite nasty the first few times,” the woman tells her reassuringly but when Draco doesn’t look like he’s going to be sick upon arrival it doesn’t help much.

“We’ll go to Diagon tomorrow, for now I suggest you go put your things away and Draco can show you around.” Lord Malfoy suggests and Hari barely gets the chance to thank him because his son nearly grabs her to pull her along.

“Come on, if we hurry we can play a game of quidditch.”

Of course the Malfoys would have their own quidditch pitch, the only thing that surprises her is that he hadn’t boasted it all year.

“Not today Dragon. In fact, I’d like the opportunity to talk to Miss Gerard after she’s settled in.” Lady Malfoy says, though not unkindly, and Draco looks like someone had told him quidditch was going to be cancelled entirely.

Hari resists the urge to smirk at him for the nickname and instead nods. “Of course, Lady Malfoy, I’ll try to be as quick as possible as to not waste your time.”

Lady Malfoy places one hand on Hari’s shoulder making her do everything not to tense up. “There’s no need to rush. But please, dear, call me Narcissa.”

The offer is suspicious even if Hari cannot see any obvious underlying motive because that means nothing when experience has taught her kindness like that was rarely real. She’s missing something and she really does hate being on the backfoot. “Of course, so long as you call me Hari.”

Both elder Malfoys leave them, and Draco immediately yells for his house elf Dobby to take her things. Hari, a little more at ease from the absence of any lords and ladies as well as the distance from Wools, looks her friend over properly. “You got taller. It’s been a month.”

Draco immediately dissolves into laughter when he looks at her. “Did you know the men in my family are rarely below six foot in height.” The blond says solemnly despite the grin on his face and at any other time she might have appreciated his ability to tease her without blushing.

As it is, she’s more focused on not hitting him with a hex. “You’re very cruel, heir Malfoy,” she tells him instead.

“Would you rather I be a Hufflepuff?”

Hari looks him up and down slowly before grinning, “yellow really isn’t your colour.”

They begin their journey through the manor that makes her wonder just how big it is when the receiving room alone must have been the size of three bedrooms at Wools.

“We’ll need to be quick tomorrow, if we want to go flying when we get back.”

If she were to be honest then a game of Quidditch the next afternoon is the only thing she can look forward to when Diagon was possibly going to be the most embarrassing experience in her life so far.

“I hope you don’t think I’ll go easy on you,” she replies.

Draco immediately looks to her with a glare that has little heat behind it. “You’ve never gone easy on me in all the time I’ve known you.” Hari opens her mouth to protest but he immediately shakes his head. “You cursed me too with all of Flint’s gang at the start of the year.”

Oh, _that_. Hari grins, “you wanted to be part of his gang. I thought it was a nice gesture to include you.”

Because Draco is not a complete idiot, he doesn’t believe her for a second. “You were getting payback for our first meeting,” he argues.

“Absolutely,” she agrees. “The nice part was only using it on you for a minute.”

.

Hari and Draco spend exactly one hour in a guest room that’s even bigger than her dorm room, opening the birthday chocolates and catching up as if they hadn’t written regularly most weeks. It mainly turns into theorising about their book lists and who might replace Quirrell and Hari’s worries that Dumbledore might find someone even worse than an idiot who stumbled over the same word five times.

Were anyone to start a betting ring, Hari would put money on there not being a curse at all and instead it simply being Dumbledore getting his kicks out of ruining their education. She’s pained to admit that muggles were better in one aspect and that was the refusal to let schools hire whichever idiot caught their interest.

That, on second thought, was probably just a Dumbledore problem.

Hari pats herself down once, self-conscious of any perceived imperfections, before she enters the solarium where Narcissa waits with tea and a book. The woman waves her over to a vacant seat without looking up as she bookmarks a page.

“Do you drink tea?”

Hari hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Professor Snape personally makes sure I don’t replace my tea with coffee at breakfast. He thinks I spend enough time researching as it is.”

The threat of him calling in the Potter’s was enough to dissuade her but, still, he walked down the Slytherin table every morning just to make sure she hadn’t somehow got hold of any caffeine.

Narcissa laughs, just a little, before shaking her head. “I imagine that, if Severus of all people, thinks that you’re overdoing it then you must live in the library.”

Taking her cup gently like it might shatter if she’s not extremely careful, she allows a small smile. “I really don’t see why he worries so much. I get dragged away for quidditch practice regularly.” It was hardly Hari’s fault that she had been denied all knowledge of the wizarding world for a decade and was forced into playing catch up. There was always something new to learn about how society varied by country or about branches of magic.

A small silence stretches as Hari sips her tea and Narcissa watches her. “I understand that you worry about where you might end up should you leave…that place.” Ah, this was why the woman had wanted to talk.

Hari places her cup back down and clasps her hands tightly in her lap. “I know how it must look and I would happily see Wools burn but I am content there. Not happy but more content than I ever would be with the Potter’s.” She must be careful, delicate, because this conversation is a minefield of politics and social conventions and it could blow up in her face if she says something wrong. “I’m sure that Draco mentioned certain…events during the school year. Such as the way I gained my place in Slytherin. I used a similar method at Wools. There’s no teaching the matron but the rest of them mostly fell in line.” A pause to consider her words, “it was my mistake that I didn’t realise I needed to repeat those lessons after being away for most of the year. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Saying it outright, that she used magic to hurt the muggles until they left her alone, would be disastrous even if she knew the Malfoy’s were not the type of wixen to disapprove. Actually saying it would put them all at risk should someone find out. A few hints easily denied were the better approach.

The matriarch sips her tea. “Do you spend a lot of time teaching muggles these lessons?”

Hari shakes her head with her lips quirking up into a smirk. “There’s only so much you can teach them before it becomes a waste of time. No, I keep some local muggles on a leash for when I don’t want to do my own dirty work.” As much as it frustrated her to let them claim they were responsible for how much she’s grown during her time at Wools, it was remarkably easy to catch them in the late afternoon with wide eyes asking their help with the matron’s favourites. “The muggles there are, frankly, afraid of the owls they see bringing letters. It was a joy to hear the matron scream at the sight of your family eagle, I must thank you for that.”

Narcissa smiles at her in a way Hari does not understand at all. “Back to the topic at hand. I only raised the subject because the Potter’s are not your only magical option.” Hari doesn’t hide her confusion, mentally going over all the research she had done into her blood and the laws around guardianship, and Narcissa’s smile dulls slightly. “You have a godfather. I’m surprised you haven’t been told, but should you prefer to stay with him then the ministry couldn’t intervene. Nor could the Potter’s. Godparents are named with a magical contract that provides them with certain rights. He’s my cousin, in fact, and I know Lord Black and his husband would open his doors to you. I don’t know why he’s been a failure so far, but I remember him boasting rather a lot about how proud he was to be your godfather when it came about.”

Hari cannot quite identify the strange feeling in her stomach that’s uncomfortable, but she knows it’s not the sharp twisting feeling that came with days being denied food. She thinks about the present at Yule from people who’s names she didn’t know and considers that one of those names may be her godfather, and then she stamps down on the hot anger that tries to rise because why hadn’t he written to her. Hari decides that his failure, as Narcissa had put it, is because he is just another person who decided she wasn’t good enough and threw her away. She doesn’t voice any of this, instead shaking her head, “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s not your fault. Someone should have explained your options rather than leave you to try and understand it yourself. You may be a brilliant child but you’re still a child who was thrust into our world.” Narcissa shakes her head before her smile turns sly. “Another option, you might be glad to know, is through your grandmother. Dorea was a Black before she married a Potter, from one of the lesser branches of the family, while I am a Black of the main branch. We are, albeit rather distantly, related and that provides us with a blood tie. This blood tie allows us to put a claim on inviting you to our traditional celebrations, like our Yule ball, and so long as you agree not even Dumbledore can stop you leaving the castle.” Narcissa sounds incredibly proud of this discovery on her part, or maybe the pride is about getting one over on the headmaster. “Even Dumbledore hasn’t managed to destroy the value traditionalists place on our holidays yet.”

Hari drinks as she processes and tries to mercilessly stamp her own feelings to dust. “If I may ask a sensitive question, I have been doing a lot of reading, but I still don’t understand why traditional holidays are under attack. There’s not a lot of unbiased reading in the library but the little I’ve found suggest that magic need balance and wixen cannot help how their core leans.” She worries, for a moment, that she has overstepped with the way that the woman’s eyes widen.

Like any good pureblood, however, Narcissa quickly hides her surprise. “That’s a mature question, Hari, I imagine it’s more measured than a number of members of the Wizengamot are capable of.” Narcissa begins, pouring more tea before daring to continue. “The answer, however, is complicated. Europe is one of the only places in the world where magic is classified like this and it’s the legacy of Grindelwald. He was a heinous wizard who falsely claimed the title of Dark Lord and his reign of terror left a significant mark on the continent.” The woman pauses again, shaking her head in much the same way Snape did whenever he got frustrated with idiots in class or in charge of the wizarding world.

“There are many Dark Lords and Europe has refused to listen to them refute Grindelwald was one of them. It is their job to protect dark wixen and dark creatures, chosen by Lady Magic herself, and there were once Light Lords too, though they have fallen into obscurity in Europe due to the undermining of tradition. But because of Grindelwald, Dumbledore led an effort against all things dark and insisted that it was the same as evil.”

Hari nods, having eagerly lapped up the information Hogwarts refused to offer. “That’s why Hogwarts has cut so many classes and lost so many students. Dumbledore’s been downsizing to only essential OWL’s.” It hadn’t been easy to find out how to get hold of ministry laws and reports, but it had helped her find a trend in the last century. Her next research task, she decides, is to investigate Grindelwald and the wars no one wanted to talk about.

“The issue of…muggleborns hasn’t helped much either. The increase in their appearance over the last century has led to a push to discard the old traditions in the misled belief that they will be excluded rather than educating them. It’s left dark wixen with few places to turn.” Narcissa continues unsurely, maybe cautious of how Hari feels when her mother was one of those muggleborns.

Maybe if her mother had not discarded her, she might actually have some strong feelings on the topic. “It took a few tries to find the right book, Pansy had to loan it to me in the end, but Quill Starling wrote that the origin of the term mudblood was meant to refer to muggleborns who refuse to accept wixen traditions or appreciate Lady Magic. His theory might not be the true origin but most modern wixen accept his belief that mudblood is meant to mean that they treat the magic in their blood like dirt, or mud, and at least show no respect for the gift that it is. Not all muggleborns are mudbloods but all mudbloods _are_ muggleborn. Until recently, at least.”

Hari pauses, ignoring the surprise on Narcissa’s face, to take a drink before continuing. “I don’t believe in blood supremacy, Narcissa, but I do believe if a muggleborn cannot accept wizarding traditions then they are a mudblood and shouldn’t have to be accepted among those who do.” It had taken four months to find the alleged origin of the term because she had wanted to know what it meant if she was going to use it or even simply hear it around the common room. “Between my own research and talking to my housemates, I gained a good introduction into alignments, cores, and the importance of maintaining balance in magic. Something that the traditions help with. I thought it would be important for me to know when Draco and Pansy insisted I had a dark core.”

“You do,” Narcissa confirms. “In fact, you have an incredibly strong dark alignment.”

Hari smiles to herself.

“We have a number of books that could assist you with your studies in the dark arts.” Narcissa makes the offer with just a hint of excitement.

“No less than half of Slytherin has offered their libraries. I really do appreciate the offer but I’m certain that if the headmaster suspected I was pursuing the dark arts then he would blame anyone I’ve talked to outside his influence.” She declines because she had weighed up the pros and cons with Pansy and Tracey one night when it came to borrowing more overtly dark books. “Should he suspect anything upon my return to Hogwarts, I imagine he would swiftly blame your family. A few of my housemates mentioned how bad things got for their families for simply being dark and I’d rather not give him any more fuel. No, it’s safer if I happen to be caught in the restricted section because I got too curious.”

That adventure was already planned down to which passage into the restricted section she was willing to sacrifice alongside her spotless record. One detention was better than her friends being accused of pushing her towards the dark arts.

Narcissa looks at her with strangely piercing eyes rather like she had not truly seen her before.

“You have very big plans for when you’re done at Hogwarts, don’t you?” The woman asks when she finally stops examining her and Hari nods. “I’m sure you’re going to do great things even before then.”

.

Draco doesn’t care much at all about why his friend spent so much time drinking tea and conversing with his mother. No, the lovable blond fool had been far too busy floo calling Pansy to demand she came over for the afternoon because Hari was there now and they promised to share as soon as they heard from her.

Hari, in turn, spends the afternoon watching them both suspiciously because the other girl just happens to bring some old clothes she didn’t much like anymore so Hari should really take them. Old clothes that just happen to be in her size and probably haven’t been worn even once.

Both of them plead innocence and insist Pansy simply bought more clothes than she would ever need and neither Tracey nor Daphne would appreciate the formal style like Hari would.

If they were ever to become an inner circle then they may just make the most insolent one in recent history if they were happy to plot against her so openly. Well, not against her since it was for her own benefit, but at least behind her back.

.

After supper, they send Pansy back through the floo and retire to the sitting room.

Narcissa sits next to her husband on an entirely ancient loveseat while Draco and Hari take up two armchairs to put together quidditch strategy and plot how to guarantee he becomes Slytherin chaser the next school year. She pretends to read but prefers to enjoy watching the two argue over Draco’s strategies (based on the winning team in the league) as opposed to Hari’s (based on statistics and historic formations.)

Lucious drinks a glass of all too expensive pinot noir from their stores and contemplates, but for his own sake she hopes he is not contemplating on how to use their house guest to his advantage. Were he to voice how valuable Hari would be to the Dark Lord again then he would be finding himself sleeping on Severus’s couch in Spinners End until he was left suitably grovelling because the potions master would most likely scold him too.

The company is pleasant, all beside a roaring fire, for near enough an hour before she sees the pain bleeding onto her husbands face and knows it must be the faded dark mark acting up again. It was a regular occurrence that not even pain potions could fix, tied to his very magic, and no one could stop it. Merlin knew how often Severus tried.

Then Hari, without so much as looking up or away from Draco, hisses in the same language their Lord had once used. From her it is softer and gentler, a lullaby in comparison to the ever-present threat that had left their Lord. But what truly takes her attention is that all traces of pain leave Lucius’s face, his muscles relax, and one by one they all stare at the girl in shock.

It must take a moment for Hari to notice the stares because she blinks twice in confusion when she does. “Sorry,” Hari says with no trace of sincerity. “It’s just, Asmodeus was being very loud. I asked him to rest for a while so I could concentrate on strategy – I can wake him up again?” She suggests strangely oblivious to why they are so shocked.

Lucius regains himself quickly. “Who is Asmodeus?” He chooses to ask and Narcissa thinks the girl is silently wondering if they’re all stupid by the way her eyebrows draw together.

“The snake, on your arm. His names Asmodeus and he’s been yelling it at me for hours. Apparently, no one ever told him he should settle. Professor Snape’s, Azazel, is the same but he’s more used to being covered up so I haven’t had to settle him yet.” She pauses with a distinct frown, “if he keeps demanding my attention in potions then I might have to.”

Hari truly doesn’t seem to understand the importance of what she’s saying, doesn’t even seem to recognise what they are marks of, and it’s so strange for a girl who seemed to pride herself on intelligence.

“That’s why you’re always so grumpy after potions!” Draco says, sharing his revelation like it is the most important discovery in the world. Oh, Narcissa loves her son.

“I didn’t really want to bring it up, I wasn’t sure if Professor Snape had just made a mistake and gotten a semi-sentient snake by accident.” Hari shakes her head like she’s disappointed. “Putting a semi-sentient snake on your skin in general sounds like a bad idea. Snakes are very demanding. Asmodeus is outraged that he hasn’t seen the sun recently and Azazel complains about all of the brewing. I’m guessing it was a club of some kind and they’re all linked because they mention a master who isn’t connecting them anymore a lot. They probably had a hivemind of sorts to relay messages and were connected via their masters magic so no wonder they keep trying to talk _my_ ear off if their connection got abruptly broken.” She huffs but Narcissa thinks that the girl is truly in her element sharing the connections she’s made. “Oh, he does it on purpose too, you know? He thinks if he causes enough pain then he’ll get some attention. I knew a garden snake like that once, he kept trying to bite my finger if I ignored him.”

Her dear husband has apparently returned to a state of shock because their house guest has spent a year silently making her own theories about the dark mark without mentioning a word.

Hari scrunches her nose slightly and raises an eyebrow. “Forgive me, but whoever made them through they were **very** funny. They said their master named them and… Asmodeus is the Hebrew name for a demon of luxury and sensuality depending on what you read. Azazel was meant to have taught man to make weapons of war and introduced cosmetics, and potions are capable of both. The joke isn’t that good if you haven’t had a bible thrown at you.”

Draco is looking anywhere that is not another person and Hari is ignorant of exactly what she’s done but most likely suspects she’s missing a piece of the puzzle. Narcissa, putting aside the very idea that the Dark Lord actually had a sense of humour, watches her husband very closely. They both knew Hari was a parselmouth but for her to be able to communicate with the Dark Mark itself, to give it orders, was another thing entirely and Narcissa isn’t sure how he might act with this knowledge.

Lucius, leaving behind his shock, laughs in a way that makes his whole body shake. “Have you thought a lot about how they work?” He asks with genuine interest and Hari tilts her head.

“Not much until today, honestly, but I considered the application in regard to one person. I’ve had to rethink my entire theory with the knowledge there are multiple. I thought someone might be secretly enchanting them as a method of spying and that the one responsible had their own to report back from. Plus, I couldn’t imagine who would want to spy on a schoolteacher.” Hari admits almost sheepish in sharing she had kept a possibly security risk to herself all year. “But with two in close proximity I had to discount that anyway. It could be true, but you didn’t seem surprised it was there. I’m pretty sure they’re made of dark magic as well as parselmagic because you’re both so careful about keeping them hidden.”

Hari is certainly in her element when it comes to explaining her thoughts and ideas, but Draco looks so unphased by it, even if he seems fascinated, that Narcissa wonders just how often the girl would ramble on about her thoughts.

Lucius listens raptly. “We didn’t know they were sentient in the way you describe, but you are right that they were made using dark magic.” He confirms and, with one look to Narcissa to see if she disapproves, rolls up his sleeve to reveal the dark mark.

Hari leans out of her chair to look at it and Draco had to pull her back before she can fall out of it entirely. “Parselmagic has unique ties to soul magic from what Luca tells me, which is probably how they were connected to each other and your magic.”

“The magic used isn’t the only reason I cover it. How much do you know of the last war?”

Draco looks scared. It’s subtle, he almost masks it entirely, but Narcissa knows her son. She wants to assure him that he won’t lose his friend over this, but she truly doesn’t know how Hari might react because blood ties could be strong things even with such a divided family.

“I know it was between the light and the dark factions but otherwise no one has tried to tell me anything. I’ve heard some of my housemates say that the way the Potter’s sided is what has made them blood traitors and I know the attack on Adrian Potter was part of the war. I’ve heard a lot about how dark families were treated during and because of it.”

Narcissa feels as shocked as her husband looks over how little the girl had been told. A year in the wizarding world and her parents hadn’t even had the courage to explain to her what happened a decade ago?

Lucius takes a deep breath, calling for Dobby to bring another glass, before he dares tackle what the girl’s parents and Dumbledore had failed to. “The war, at it’s heart, was between the dark and light factions, yes. But it became complicated and diluted by some of those involved. Some, like us, were fighting to protect our traditions while others fought because they enjoyed causing pain and even because they wanted all muggles dead.” Even that was a simplification of just how messy the entire thing had become at the end when no one could be called a friend and no single motivation was enough. “The longer it went on, the worse it became and the more desperate everyone grew. The goal of separating muggles from our world completely became killing all muggles, and muggleborns with them. There was a powerful wizard who led us as well, a true Dark Lord, and for a long time my family were at his side, but he grew fanatical and paranoid and the goal of protecting dark wixen faded to the background. Then he heard a prophecy about a child who could defeat him, and he decided to kill them first.”

Hari does not speak a word nor show any emotion at all to these admissions. “The attack on Potter?” She questions calmly instead and still Narcissa cannot read her.

Narcissa nods, stepping in before Lucius can risk putting his foot in his mouth. “Yes, though no one knows how you actually gained your scar that night. As far as we were aware, he planned on removing you from the Potter’s to a more suitable family afterwards.” Narcissa leaves a few details out that she’s sure the girl might figure out on her own. Their lord had planned on killing James and Lily Potter because they refused to stop standing against him and their combined strength would have been a threat, and he had wanted Hari somewhere he could observe to make sure she never became a threat either.

The fact that she had volunteered their home, offered to take the girl as their ward once the deed was done to protect another of Black blood, doesn’t need to be mentioned either. That would remain between herself, Lucius, and the spirit of the Dark Lord.

“Draco, if you don’t breathe soon then you’ll turn blue and Daphne’s told you that’s not your colour.” Hari then says with one eyebrow cocked at the silent boy.

Draco gapes, at a loss for words, until he shakes himself out of it under the intensity of the girl’s gaze. “You’re not mad? That we’re…” He trails off but Narcissa does have to admit he had a point that it is strange.

Hari snorts. “You know,” she drawls, looking to Narcissa and Lucius, “the first day I met your son he called me a blood traitor and implied he thought I was a mudblood. I’m honestly disappointed he thinks this would be what makes me finish with him.”

Her son flushes under her stern look. “You already got me for that,” he mutters childishly.

Narcissa takes some pity on him. “It is strange that you don’t see this as a rather big deal, Hari.” She points out with no small amount of amusement bleeding into her tone.

“You put your efforts into fighting for your literal right to practice your magic. Am I meant to hold someone else’s actions against you when his actions weren’t even against **me**?” Hari shrugs, laying it out rather coldly, before ever so slightly scrunching up her nose in disgust again. “When the Potter’s started following Dumbledore, I imagine he wasn’t the kind of man to hide a historical artifact in a school of children.” There is another pause before the girl continues just a little more gently. “And, to be honest, you’ve been more honest with me in a day than any of them have in a year. They could have told me anything they wanted about the war when I first met them but never tried because they were too busy excusing throwing me away.”

Draco throws himself back in his chair with a huff, “I owe Blaise five galleons now!” He complains. “When no one wanted to bring it up, he bet you wouldn’t even curse if someone told you.”

Hari looks at him, seemingly paying no attention to the way _her_ undivided attention makes him flush, “I hope you don’t expect me to curse now just to win your bet.”

Narcissa looks at her husband who doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not both terribly tired and amused with their son and takes his hand in her own.

“You’re a terrible friend, Hari.” Draco glares at the ceiling but there’s no heat behind his words, “you never take my side.”

“Well, in this case Blaise never called be a mudblood.”

“I didn’t actually call you one!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to pause writing this multiple times in the middle because I got angry again that the reason Voldemort was the way he was because of r*pe and I refuse to have it. Baby Tom Riddle wasn't plotting world domination, he was a child during the blitz at a time where corporeal punishment was allowed and being different was seen as very bad. I know there was probably a canon explanation for how the dark mark works (?) but I also really enjoyed the idea that the dark mark can always spy on you and report back. Hari's theory isn't necessarily correct but it's similar in concept. Plus I love Hari checkmating Voldemort with their shared religious trauma to ruin his little inside joke. 
> 
> Finally, Narcissa and Lucius are probably informally adopting Hari as we speak. Narcissa is about to send a howler to the Potters saying that's her baby now fuckers.


	8. How it feels being by yourself in the rain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Muggles had spent a week teaching them stranger danger, it was just unfortunate that Hari never listened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very much a short filler type chapter tbh but I also got really distracted with writing this tropey(tm) HP fic I'm debating posting so I've fallen behind writing this fic. But here I offer the Malfoy's being iconique and Hari being chaotic and Lucius and Narcissa drafting adoption papers in real time. Next chapter will also be somewhat short too but it's gonna kick off what??? I didn't expect aka Ginny and Hari being bros. I can honestly say it was an unexpected thing until I got into planning. 
> 
> At this point it's really just standard that there's gonna be references to Wool's being the worst honestly. So as usual, there's nothing graphic but references to abuse. 
> 
> Hitting our weekly song, thank you all for the comments and kudos and a really big thank you for sticking with me on this. Once again, I have no beta and no canon knowledge but that's okay because HP is collectively ours now.

On the morning of their trip to Diagon Alley, Hari becomes certain that Pansy did in fact buy new clothes for her. She dreads to imagine how else they’re conspiring against her, but the clothes _are_ nice, and she’s always had trouble turning away from pretty things. Hari would have to commend Pansy on just how well the girl knew her tastes because the black turtleneck and tartan skirt she picks out for the day are items she would have had to grab second hand and sow back together otherwise.

A knock on the door comes when she is trying to brush her hair out and Narcissa slips in quietly. “Breakfast isn’t ready yet - don’t rush yourself,” the blond says immediately with a soft smile on her face. If Hari didn’t know better she would think that smile was a sign of affection, except she does know better, and Hari hasn’t done anything to earn that. “I just wanted to ask how you slept.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever slept so well, thank you.” Hari admits because the entire guest suite was massive in itself though the bed had practically swallowed her up. It hadn’t been her proudest moment when she fell out of it in an attempt to wake up only an hour earlier.

Hari keeps trying to comb out the knots and curls which were so much harder to deal with without the flower from Yule; there was nothing to stop her from using it now she was among wixen again and her hair would probably thank her for it. Except, the flower was possibly from her absent godfather and she doesn’t want anything from someone who could throw her away and not even try to write. At least the Potter’s tried to talk to her and make excuses.

Narcissa walks up behind her, “may I?” Hari hesitates for a moment, gripping the brush tighter by instinct, because no one else has done her hair since she started biting anyone who tried. Just like her habit of biting to avoid prayer, it had begun at the age of seven following advice from a garden snake. The only person at Wool’s who refused to be dissuaded by the new tactic was, expectedly, the matron who had taken to simply trying to grab and cut at Hari’s hair like the curls personally offended her.

After a brief fight against her own instinct, Hari nods and offers up the brush.

Against all expectations, Narcissa is gentle with the mess of curls, perhaps gentler than Hari tended to be, and it helps her relax under the careful touch. “I have two sisters, and my older sister Bella – well, her hair was notoriously awful to brush. I was always the only one who could ever get her to sit still.” Narcissa shares, never pausing her movements but often meeting Hari’s eyes in the mirror. “Draco decided when he was young that he would be keeping his hair short. I was devastated my talent would go to waste, especially when I once forced my cousin Sirius to let me do his hair for the practice.”

Hari is not the best at emotion, that fact shouldn’t surprise anyone who knew her, and it had only been proven when she could barely feel hurt at the revelation the Malfoys followed a Dark Lord who tried to kill her twin.

(This is not to say that Hari feels nothing. Hari feels rather a lot, even if she tended to lean towards anger and often curiosity. Hari simply isn’t good at understanding how she feels or emoting correctly. When she was being passed between people who didn’t want her, from the Potter’s to the Dursley’s to Wool’s to the Gerard’s and back to Wool’s again, they had forgotten to teach her how to feel properly along the way.

They had all told her to feel remorseful for existing, so she feels guilty for nothing. They taught her survival was all that mattered, so morals and people mean little to her if they get in her way. Hari cannot identify a single memory before Hogwarts that _only_ provided her some degree of happiness.

This is all to say, Hari feels. She feels a lot at all times, but Hari’s emotional intelligence was stunted around the time she was put in a cupboard by someone meant to care for her. Hari had stopped understanding how others felt when Mrs Gerard, who once told her she would protect her now, had ignored her cries for help and insisted she was evil.)

So, faced with Narcissa’s smile and soft voice, Hari doesn’t quite understand the cause but offers a small smile to signal she’s listening.

“Your hair is lovely; is there a reason you never wear it down?”

The question catches Hari by surprise. “– It’s always been…personal. Wearing it down feels private.” Hari had stopped letting anyone else do her hair when she was seven because she hadn’t wanted to be touched, and it was easier to learn on her own than deal with the staff of Wool’s tearing her hair out because they didn’t learn the best way to brush it. Hari stopped wearing her hair down when she was eight and fat fingers had pulled and caught at it because it was too beautiful not to touch and Hari had broken everything she could find with magic so she would be sent back.

“Our hair often is,” Narcissa agrees and keeps herself busy with sectioning out Hari’s hair. “I heard Tracey Davis regularly asks you to do hers.”

The mention of Tracey raises a genuine smile on her part. “I tried teaching her, but she insists hair is beyond her talents. I don’t believe her at all, and Pansy complains at us when I do because Tracey can’t do her hair and she’s left out.” Hari doesn’t share the nightly routine where both girls would take up space on her bed because neither of them believed in personal space. She would always end up kneeling on the bed while Tracey sat in front of her having her hair braided, and Pansy would spread herself across Hari’s bed to complain about her day, Gryffindors and not being a part of the hair train. Not necessarily in that order.

This had come about when it became clear Tracey wouldn’t let anyone but Hari do her hair while Hari always does her own first. Pansy simply enjoyed taking up as much space as possible like a cat.

“Pansy’s love language is complaining.” Narcissa informs her with no small amount of amusement – Hari will need to research what that is – but finally sets the comb down. “I do know what it’s like, Hari, having blood on both sides of the war. My sister turned to Dumbledore whilst I was in school and my cousin nearly refused the Black lordship entirely. I know your blood hasn’t been much of a family to you, but it is okay if you feel conflicted.”

Hari doesn’t know how she’s meant to explain that she feels very little for the Potter’s but…she had been weak, hadn’t she? When she went to visit Adrian at the end of the year. She feels something for them, but she doubts it’s enough to turn her away from her plans or her friends.

“You’re young Hari and war should not be a burden you carry. It’s okay if you don’t turn away from them.”

Logically Hari understands. She understands enough to nod. But she doesn’t agree in the slightest because caring for the Potter’s _is_ a weakness, the kind she cannot allow herself, not when they had wronged her so very much. Now she knows, too, that the Potter’s are light, they’re scared of the dark, and Hari knows she’s a dark witch. She’s always known in some way, from the comfort blood magic gave her to how nothing felt more natural to her than parseltongue.

Narcissa smiles suddenly and ever so brightly with her hands resting on Hari’s shoulders, inspecting the waterfall braid she had produced proudly. Hari hasn’t gone out with her hair so free in years, but she can’t quite find it in herself to object to letting the curls fall neatly. “It’s beautiful,” Hari says, and the woman’s smile is blinding.

“Come now, they’ll be wondering where we are.”

.

Draco averts his eyes at breakfast, but Hari is used to it by now because he was both persistent and respectful.

Thankfully, there’s a distraction in the form of Lucius and his fascination over her reveal the previous night, Hari even tells the really quite obnoxious snake to be nice which promptly sends a thrill of magic through the Lord. Not needing to hide the mark allows Asmodeus to get the sun he demands and Hari to enjoy a peaceful breakfast.

A peaceful and quick affair because Draco is desperate to go flying so the visit to Diagon must be early if they want to go out before supper.

“This is a floo, it’s connected to a network of fireplaces across Britain. In this case we’ll need it since you can’t apparate into Diagon.” Draco tells her just in case she hadn’t read about it yet.

Hari smiles, “oh, how devastating.” She doesn’t imagine a floo could be worse than the sensation of apparating.

“I will go first as an example. Make sure you speak very clearly,” Lucius announces, and Hari watches very closely as the man is consumed in green flames. She leans into Draco’s side, “it’s a little _burn the witch_ , isn’t it.”

Draco doesn’t bother to hide his laugh.

“Why don’t you go next?” Narcissa suggests but Hari’s sure she sounds amused too.

Hari takes a handful of floo powder, trying to follow Lucius’s example as closely as possible, but she hadn’t expected the powder to be quite so aggressive with the way it gets in her face. “Di – Dia – gon Alley.”

She is going to hex Draco for the distinct laugh she hears before she has the worst travelling experience of her life. A series of unpleasant sensations she imagines might be similar to being shoved in a washing machine that leaves her feeling both dizzy and sick. It comes to an abrupt end when she’s flung out of a fireplace onto a concrete floor which connects with her face first.

The sharp pain brings out her fangs.

Having returned to being the punching bag of a higher being, Hari pushes herself up with a broken nose and blood on her face to look and see where she has ended up. A shelf lined with skulls immediately draws her attention and she decides finding help can wait because she really wants to know if they are real or not.

Concluding that the skulls are most definitely real, she turns her attention to a necklace on display. “I suggest you don’t touch that,” Hari looks up to find an old man behind the counter with more teeth missing than he has left and stringy grey hair. He fit with the atmosphere of the shop at least, she would compliment him on the consistency if she thought it was on purpose.

“It’s cursed, isn’t it? The eye, I mean, I know the necklace is. Most of the stuff here probably is,” Hari asks as if her nose isn’t broken and her fangs weren’t poking at her lip and there isn’t blood around her mouth and chin. She ignores the impulse to take out her wand and poke the glass eye in question to see what might happen.

“You have a good eye for a little brat,” the man eyes her cautiously but nods in confirmation.

Hari turns her attention to a mummified hand that sits on its own cushion and with no card to describe it. “Do you have a special licence for these? I’ve been reading up on the ministry rules and you’re allowed to own dark objects so long as you didn’t create them. It’s not worth being found with them because of trials and public opinion, but there was nothing about buying or selling. They make it really hard to get any information at all.” Hari peers closer at a glass jar that contains what she thinks might just be a heart. She could be wrong considering she’s never seen one and the jar is higher than she can reach but she would be willing to wager it anyway. The more important question is whether or not it’s human.

The man watches her like she might try to grab something and run which, she’ll admit, is something she considered very briefly. “You’re a curious brat,” he says instead of answering but stays behind the counter. “The ministry doesn’t come down here, you should know that.”

Hari decides to move on to the next thing that catches her eye, this time being a shelf of vials and bottles she suspects are full of poisons. “What is this place, sorry, it’s just I got the floo wrong,” she asks because she should probably figure that out soon and doubts she should push her luck much further asking the man so many questions.

Muggles had spent a week nailing ‘stranger danger’ into their heads back in year four and Hari thinks that probably applies to wixen as well.

“Borgin and Burkes, down Knockturn,” he answers gruffly, and Hari glances out the big dusty windows onto the street beyond.

Hari heads for the door. “Oh, I’ll leave you to it then. Thank you.” Hagrid, when he collected her from Wool’s the previous year, had told her not to go down there because it was dark and dangerous. Hari hadn’t found time to go investigate alone. The half-giant had been overwhelmingly kind, but he also told her nothing about her family or mentioned the Potter’s at all despite her letter still bearing that name. Her opinion of him had rotted away over the year because he was either so naive he hadn’t considered the connection, or he just decided not to bring it up. The fact he had not reached out to her beyond a greeting after the train to even explain it hadn’t done much for her opinion either.

Leaving the shop, she immediately walks into someone. “Draco tells me you struggled to speak clearly.” Hari looks up at the Lord Malfoy without even a drop of amusement despite the fact the man clearly thought it was funny. “Did Borgin give you any trouble?” Lucius asks, grey eyes flickering up to the shop window, and slightly more concerned.

Hari would snort if her nose didn’t hurt quite so much, “he didn’t like how many questions I asked.” There’s a flash of abject horror on his face that Hari had decided to stick around to ask questions of the strange old man despite being completely alone.

Still, Lucius takes out his wand and fixes her nose with a quick spell and then cleans the blood from her face. “That was a lot of blood for a simple broken nose.”

Hari decides to simply flash her fangs at him before forcing them back, “I’m pretty good at keeping them in but it gets harder when I’m in pain.” She explains because the man pales ever so slightly. Snape, she thinks, had paled a little too at the sight of them.

“Well, Narcissa and Draco are both waiting nearby, and I imagine they’re both sick with worry.” He says and Hari frowns but nods. She knows people worry when they care, from an academic standpoint, but no one has ever felt the need to worry about her so the Malfoy’s worry feels rather like they think she cannot look after herself.

Sure enough, Narcissa descends to grab her by the shoulders and inspect her as soon as they leave the alley and enter Diagon.

“One word and I’ll hex you,” she warns Draco who tries and fails to look the picture of innocence.

Narcissa must deem her acceptable because the woman releases one of her shoulders only to place her free hand on Draco’s to steer them through the alley. Draco was definitely smirking. “Robes first, it’ll take some time to get your measurements.” Narcissa declares.

Hari’s mouth goes dry because the part she was dreading has arrived, “I’ve already adjusted my robes for next year.”

The walk to Madam Malkin’s doesn’t so much as pause. “Absolutely not, Hari, we’ll be taking care of this,” Narcissa tells her sternly. Hari thinks it must be rehearsed because when she tries to protest Lucius steps in, “Miss Gerard, we have told you that your grandmother was a Black. That makes you family and I expect you to allow us to assist you and especially in terms of appearance.”

How in Merlin’s name was she meant to argue with that? She’s staying with them and associates with their son, of course she needs to keep a high standard when it comes to presentation. “Thank you,” she says instead and pretends it’s an accident when she steps on Draco’s foot for smirking.

.

Madam Malkin’s cannot be described as anything but an **experience**. Narcissa takes care of ordering the robes which leaves Hari with no idea of what might arrive in a few days and the measurements leave her both dizzy and unhappy because she hasn’t grown much in a year.

She and Draco compete to see who can escape the shop first, both desperate to reach the sweet freedom of the alley where they weren’t surrounded with wixen only able to talk about robes. They then get the space to admire the newest brooms while Narcissa leaves for a secret mission that makes Hari somewhat nervous before Lucius herds them to Flourish and Blotts for their schoolbooks.

(Draco had spent an hour complaining to her about Gilderoy Lockhart whose books had been all on their list from Hogwarts. Hari hadn’t bothered to point out that the man was probably their new defence teacher since there was surely no other reason for them to buy the exaggerated tales.)

Lucius sends them in alone because the store is packed full enough as it is, and they only need one shared glance before they rush for the second floor to avoid being trampled by middle aged witches. A shared plan to escape upstairs falls apart quickly when Draco finds himself trying to restrain Hari from turning her attention solely on the (good and not at all self-serving) schoolbooks kept there.

Draco was very careful with touch when it came to her which makes it clear just how desperate he is when he attempts to physically pull her away only to immediately give up on that when she steps on his foot again.

“Hari, I will absolutely leave you here,” he tells her flatly.

It has no effect at all because she still tries to fight her way to a book on a shelf that is twice her height. “Go ahead, see you later, have fun,” she replies and ignores his prompt groan.

Draco leans on the balcony overlooking the floor below. “Potter is getting his picture taken with Lockhart!” He announces and Hari pauses just to look over and see if he’s serious or resorting to lying to catch her attention.

Upon determining he was completely serious she shrugs, “no wonder he thinks he can get away with murder at school.” She turns back to the shelves.

“Come and help me make fun of him!” Draco pleads childishly, miserable at the idea of missing his favourite hobby otherwise known as Gryffindor baiting.

Hari glances back at him, eyebrows raised, “Potter or Lockhart?”

This, apparently, is not an acceptable answer because he looks at her flatly before marching down the stairs. Hari returns to her books and using sharp elbows as weapons for precisely two minutes before she realises that it was a terrible idea to allow this to happen and bolts after him.

“–your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those.”

Hari catches the tail end, arriving at Draco’s side at the same exact moment Adrian arrives to the side of Weasley’s and Granger. “ _Draco_ you know Gryffindors are easy targets. You’d get a better fight from a puff,” she sighs, one hand on his shoulder ready to drag him out if this goes bad.

Draco doesn’t shrug off her hand. “Maybe you shouldn’t have abandoned me for books,” he replies but there’s no heat, so she knows he’s not actually hurt.

“It’s a disgrace – not only is a Potter a slimy snake, but you fit right in with them!” Ron Weasley says, red in the face, and accompanied by a small female Weasley.

Hari smiles back ever so sweetly. “I guess I take after my grandmother, as I hear it, she was a Black.”

Weasley splutters at that, maybe because of her ignoring the insult or maybe because he really didn’t know much about the Potter ancestry he was throwing in her face. “You can’t blame him for not knowing that Hari, I don’t think he’s ever picked up a book.” Draco interjects and clearly he’s eager to enjoy his favourite hobby.

Adrian simply looks tired. “Can you guys quit it – we’re not even at school,” her twin huffs before turning to her. “You look nice, mum and dad are just round the corner if you wanna say hi.”

Hari debates just how to turn him down. “Oh, I doubt they’d want to be seen with me when there’s so much press about,” she drawls and tells herself that she really doesn’t care.

Granger glares at her, fired up and righteous, “jealous, Gerard?”

She looks at the girl with a raised eyebrow and exaggerated confusion. “Of what, Granger? Certainly not of your exam results, I know I beat you in all of them.”

Oh, the girl flushes at that but she’s sure it’s in anger.

“And definitely not of Gryffindor,” Draco adds, chin raised high. “We all know the house cup was stolen. Even the Ravenclaws were unhappy about it. We won the quidditch cup, though, and that was all hard work.”

Weasley shakes slightly, “that’s because Slytherins always cheat!” The redhead hisses.

Hari grins at him. “I certainly don’t cheat, and it isn’t wrong to say I was the significant cause of winning our matches. Come on, try another excuse.”

Adrian physically grabs his friend to keep him back. “ _I_ want to be seen with you, okay, if you just stop being mean to all my friends.”

One day she was going to ask him just why he thought, despite her telling him more than once, she wasn’t actually mean. He seemed to have convinced himself that the next time they talked she would suddenly become as friendly as the average Hufflepuff. “Maybe your friends shouldn’t pick fights with me either,” she snaps back.

Draco, seemingly unable to stop himself, decides to jump in. “Weasel makes it rather easy, in Hari’s defence, he’s not exactly a shining example of a Gryffindor.”

Hari pulls her tragically slow friend out of the way when Weasley bursts out of Adrian’s grip because she would sooner believe he should be in Gryffindor than that he had ever been in a fist fight. Hari, in contrast, has had boys twice her size trying to physically intimidate her for years and she knows how to retaliate.

Draco is also Hers, so she feels absolutely no guilt in intercepting the hit – her being shorter than him helps throw the boy off, though his elbow still ends up hitting her collarbone fairly hard, so she grabs his arm and twists it behind his back.

“Try to hit my friend again and I’ll break something of yours, Weasley,” she spits and pushes him away back into his friends. Immediately the boy starts whining, cradling his arm like he was actually hurt, and she rolls her eyes. “I barely touched you, you absolute –”

She doesn’t get to finish. “What is going on over here!” A redheaded woman shouts, coming up behind the Gryffindors with the Weasley twins not far behind her. Hari meets Draco’s eyes and imagines he too wishes Weasley’s would stop appearing. “Listen here, I will not allow physical violence no matter who you are. Where’s your mothers?” The woman turns on them irately.

Draco looks everywhere that is not Hari considering just how loaded that question was, and Adrian too looks at the floor. “Maybe you should teach your son not to throw punches,” she bites out and her polite demeanour is dropped because she’s still angry Weasel dared try and harm what is hers.

“My goodness,” the Weasley matriarch gasps like Hari had personally attacked her. “What are you getting yourself into now – oh, Hari” Lily Potter arrives, voice trailing off in surprise, coming to stand next to the woman. The redhead promptly flushes with wide eyes as she looks Hari over again and realises who she is.

Hari decides to make a point and stands shoulder to shoulder with Draco.

“We saw you in the alley – I just assumed you were with Snape,” Lily continues, and Hari thinks it must be a lie because she’s barely been parted from Draco’s side since arriving.

There’s not a chance for her to call this lie. “Children, I was wondering what was taking you so long to fetch your books,” Hari doesn’t glance behind her at the sound of Lucius Malfoy, but she feels him standing behind both she and Draco.

By the look of narrowed green eyes and lips pressed into a thin line, Lily was far from happy that Lucius hadn’t bothered to differentiate between his actual child and Hari. She doesn’t think it helps when he stands over them both as protectively as he does. “Molly, Lady Potter,” Lucius acknowledges the women like he had only just noticed them.

Draco looks up at his father, “sorry, father, we got caught up.” He says politely and Hari thinks it’s as hard for him to keep himself from laughing at the petty greeting as it is her.

Lily frowns, drawing Adrian closer to her, “I thought Severus was taking Hari for her school things?” It takes a moment for her to realise Lily was probably unhappy about the following the Dark Lord business on the Malfoy’s part.

Lucius hums, drumming his fingers against the head of his walking stick, “ah, there was a change of plan. We offered for young Hari to stay with us until the new term, given her friendship with Draco and their shared group of friends. Far easier than owling every few days, Zira was being exhausted.” Hari has never felt more grateful than she does for the way he spins what had happened.

Another man comes up behind the Weasley’s, looking at Lucius like the man might strike with a hex at any moment, “Lucius, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Arthur. Narcissa and I thought it would be best if both of us came with the children for their school things. The ministry is so busy these days, but I thought it was worth the day out of the office.”

James Potter comes up alongside the man and Hari wonders what force had conspired to set this up. “Hari, I thought you were staying at Wool’s for the summer?” He scowls at Lucius even if the question is for her. Lily grabs him arm, leaning in to pass on the excuse that plans changed.

An uncomfortable silence falls over all parties, punctuated by two muggles loudly talking about both books and wizards. The way Granger blushes makes it clear the muggles are her parents.

“We’re having a little get together tomorrow,” Lily finally breaks the silence and looks to Hari. “It’s nothing special but, we were originally going to wish you a belated birthday in September and it would be really nice to see you tomorrow instead.”

Draco tries to stand even closer to Hari though he doesn’t speak a word or look at her.

“You wouldn’t have to stay long; it would just be nice for you to meet some of our friends out of the school setting. It’s a tradition the Potter’s started years ago, a bonfire and food, and it would be great to have you there.” James adds in, quick to clarify like it makes it any more appealing to her.

The effort was wasted because Hari’s first thought is absolutely not. Why would she want to subject herself to the Potter’s or the Weasley clan that seemed determined to insult her house at every turn. “We were going to ask Heir Parkinson and Heir Zabini over tomorrow. Besides, I’m sure certain people wouldn’t want to hang out with a slimy snake.”

Weasel ducks his head making it absolutely clear for anyone who somehow couldn’t guess just who she was referring to.

“I imagine Miss Gerard has had quite enough of being around muggles and would prefer to spend her time with a proper wizarding family,” Lucius says behind her.

Chaos erupts in the blink of an eye because ‘Arthur’ launches himself at the pureblood. Hari and Draco barely get out of the way in time, the bookshelves around them are disturbed and a book falls straight into Lucius’s eye. It takes a loud and fuming James Potter to separate them.

With all the Weasley children shouting, Hari looks at Draco and raises her eyebrows suggestively before she goes and finds Lily Potter. The woman looks like she’s plotting to grab Hari and run to rescue her from the terrible muggle hater, so Hari forces just enough unease to fall on her face when she looks to her mother. “I…think I could find time to come over tomorrow. I don’t know what time you’d prefer but it might be good to get out.”

All thoughts of kidnapping seem to flee in the face of Hari’s agreement because Lily grins, “I’ll owl you later to arrange it. I’m so glad you’re coming Hari.”

Draco doesn’t even raise a question until they’re out of the shop and there’s a fair bit of distance. “I know you don’t want to be surrounded by Weasel’s, so what are you planning?”

Hari smirks at him because he’s learning. “No, but Potter looked like she was going to raise hell over me staying with you. Clearly, she thinks you’ll corrupt me, Draco.”

The blond cackles, “me? Corrupt you?” He gasps through his own laughter. “You taught me an impalement curse!”

“It’s non-lethal, I would never encourage lethal violence,” Hari lies solemnly and glances at Lucius who chuckles quietly with a slight shake of his head. “No impaling until you’re fourteen Draco.”

Hari looks back to Draco with a sly grin and cheerfully points out, “anyway, this should make her back off and I can ruin Weasels day.”

Clearly deciding he was going to have to herd them along faster, Lucius grabs their shoulders to steer them though the alley. “Narcissa is waiting at Fortescue's and I’ll be leaving you there.”

She wonders what kind of reaction she might get upon admitting she hasn’t had ice cream in a considerably long time. “I can’t wait to tell Pansy you’re abandoning her,” Draco declares with such a dramatic flair it sounds like Hari’s leaving Britain forever.

Hari laughs because his theatrics had long since become ordinary, “Pansy will understand, she’ll probably be upset she isn’t invited to cause mayhem.” Draco considers it for less than a moment before agreeing, Pansy was more likely to be upset she won’t be there to try and push Weasel onto the bonfire.

Narcissa watches them with both a smile and a question in her eyes as they approach the table and Hari only absently notes the caged raven that sits there. “And what will Miss Parkinson be upset about?”

Draco grins. “Hari is going to spend tomorrow torturing the Weasley’s,” he declares, and Hari rolls her eyes. “Not literally,” she adds to avoid the wrong ideas. “The Potter’s invited me to attend a little party tomorrow and then they looked like they were going to kidnap me before Draco could corrupt me. Agreeing seemed like a good enough distraction to stop them running to Dumbledore,” she explains more seriously because it seemed like the sort of thing Narcissa should be wholly aware of.

The Malfoy matriarch nods once, “if they still raise an issue, we’ll say you have been celebrating a long Lammas with us. It’s already passed this year but I’m sure Draco will continue to celebrate the traditional holidays with you at school.” Draco nods eagerly and Hari assumes he had shared how they celebrated the past Yule.

“Now, before we order, this is for you. I will not accept any protests; I expect you to write regularly and he will allow you to write to us should you have any troubles next summer.” Narcissa moves the large cage closer to Hari and cuts down all her arguments with ease.

The raven inside watches her as carefully as she watches him, the light catching his feathers beautifully. “Thank you, Narcissa, he’s lovely,” she ignores Draco’s snort because even she can admit the creature looked slightly vicious. “How about Thoth,” she reaches out a finger into the cage and the raven nips at her finger lightly, so she assumes he approves. “Thoth is an ancient Egyptian god of many things, but he was associated with magic and the dead.” What she does not explain is that she knows this because she learned as much as she could about other religions, no matter how old, due to the desperation to find one which wouldn’t name her evil.

Back when she still believed in any kind of god it had brought her comfort and she had brandished every religion that didn’t despise magic against the matron like it would protect her.

Draco rolls his eyes, “of course you’d name him after a god of death.” Hari allows the teasing because it was far better than the alternative. “Now, children, what flavours would you like?” Narcissa cuts in.

Hari looks to Draco, “what flavours are good?”

When she glances at Narcissa there is a hint of murder in the woman’s eyes. “Please, Hari, tell me you have had ice cream before.” Hari very quickly nods, “I have…just not at Wool’s. It’s been a few years – five years.” She admits slowly under a stern gaze.

“I’m partial to mint, dear, but Irish cream does go best with revenge.”

Hari thinks the flames as Wool’s burns would melt the ice cream and Hari really wants to watch until it turns to ash, but she nods anyway and commits the advice to memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait for the Black family brawl where Narcissa and Sirius have to fight it out to arrange custody of Hari while Lucius and Remus watch and take bets. Like they both know Narcissa is going to win but they take bets on how long Sirius is gonna last. 
> 
> It's also the slow process of Lucius admitting okay yea I'm claiming her as my daughter now because he's always wanted a world domination child to go with Draco's theatre kid.


	9. Conjure the wind and ease my mind.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hari attends a party and looses her last nerve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that I'm not trying to make this a bashing fic, the narrative is kinda skewed by Hari's perception when it comes to Ron and I love that redhead but he's a dickhead still. I have reasons for how he acts but honestly? They'd make such a long authors note. But on with the chapter! 
> 
> I might need to take a week break on this fic because I've fallen behind writing it because my brain hates the juggling act of plotbunnies, uni and being a functioning human being. But I do have a general plan for the next few chapter which will be following the books closer than year one did in terms of chapter structure so I should hopefully get back on top of it soon. 
> 
> Once again, there are a few references to Wools being terrible as well as casual misogyny. Otherwise, jumping back to it, thank you for the comments and kudos cause I truly love reading them even if I don't always manage to reply. I love sharing my thoughts and hearing yours and it keeps my enthusiasm for this fic going. As always, I have no beta and no canon knowledge but that's okay because we have seized the means of canon.

Hari’s second floo trip goes considerably better than the first which is to say, because the bar had been placed considerably low, she doesn’t break her nose or end up in the wrong place this time. She does, however, stumble out of the floo and into James Potter’s side before she can right herself because all forms of magical travel seemed to have a personal vendetta against her.

“You look a little green there, Hari. First time in a floo?” Arthur Weasley asks, and Hari resists the urge to scowl his way after the show he made in Diagon.

Hari shakes out her hair to get rid of any dust that might have clung to her despite knowing there was none. “Second, sir, I travelled to Diagon – well, Knockturn – yesterday via floo and managed to break my nose. I think I prefer cars.” She answers politely and continues to brush herself down because her desire for perfection only ever got worse around the Potters, turning into a compulsion to prove to them that she had never needed them.

The clothes were not what she typically wore around wixen, or what she preferred to wear in general, but she had selected them from her homemade wardrobe because if they got ruined then it wouldn’t matter. Besides, the clothes Pansy had sent would only be wasted here. The pastel pink top and light patchwork jeans were the same clothes she had worn for foster families time and time again and Hari decided it would be fittingly ironic to select them today as well.

Narcissa hadn’t been able to tempt her to wear her hair down again, Hari had wrestled the stubborn curls into a tight braid the moment she woke up, because she cannot imagine facing anyone here with her hair down.

“Thank you for inviting me. I’m terribly sorry, miss, for being rude to you yesterday,” Hari turns to the Weasley matriarch and feels secure in the belief no one here would notice the lack of sincerity. “Draco’s my friend and I was still feeling defensive of him. I don’t think he’s ever taken a punch before.” It’s not a lie so it’s easy to make the apology sound real because she really does doubt her friend has ever been punched before.

“Oh, that’s alright dear, it’s lovely to meet you properly. I’ve heard plenty about you.”

James Potter, who had apparently short circuited for a moment and was only just finding his words, shakes his head. “What were you doing in Knockturn? It’s dangerous down there Hari – you should never go down there.”

Hari ignores how sharp his voice is with only a little irritation because he gave up the right to dictate what she can do a decade ago and shrugs. “The floo powder got in my face so I didn’t end up at the right place and got tossed out in Borgin and Burkes, but Lord Malfoy found me as I was leaving. I think I really annoyed Mr Borgin first though.”

James Potter pales dramatically and Hari makes sure to note it so she can share it over supper.

Lucius would probably get a kick out of it.

“It was fine, really, I asked him a lot of questions. He didn’t answer many, but I’ll just have to research it myself back at school. There was this glass eye, you know, and he wouldn’t tell me how it was cursed.” Hari sighs, a sudden realisation that could make her kick herself. “Ah, I think he might have thought I was a spy.”

She had asked Lucius how the eye was cursed but he hadn’t known either and she really wants to know how useful a cursed eye could be.

All four adults are silent. “We told you she’s very studious,” Lily Potter laughs but it’s so clearly forced no one else joins in.

“The boys, Ginny and Adrian are all outside, but we just wanted to ask you something, Hari. We’re all just a little concerned is all.” Arthur Weasley says but he sounds cautious and watches her like she might turn dangerous with one wrong word. Hari can’t honestly say he’s wrong so allows it. “We know Professor Snape was meant to take you to Diagon a few days ago, should anything have come up then McGonagall should have been available as the deputy head.” The redhead pauses to meet her gaze in a way that might have been encouraging to anyone else, “You can tell us if they made you go with them.”

Hari’s magic nearly goes wild, and she nearly laughs, and she considers so many ways to react but cannot quite choose one that would be appropriate.

Lily Potter crouches down to look at Hari on eye level when she doesn’t speak. “I know Draco’s your friend, and he might be a very good friend, but the Malfoys…his _parents_ aren’t your friends Hari. You are so clever, Hari, but you’re a just a kid and sometimes you might trust the wrong people. They both…Lord and Lady Malfoy have done bad things. Really bad things.”

Reining in her temper, Hari thinks about the Malfoys and the fact they had been more honest with her in the first night of knowing her than anyone else had in her entire life. Hari thinks about all her friends the Potters didn’t seem to like and how they made her one of them before she even considered them friends. Lucius had shared advice on how to walk circles around your enemies in life and politics and Narcissa had brushed her hair and tried offer her advice that Hari would never need because the Potters kept reminding her of their opposing sides.

She says none of it and certainly doesn’t bring up the terrible things she’s done in the name of survival. There is not a single doubt in her mind that they would never understand. “Lord and Lady Malfoy have been generous – Lady Malfoy bought me a post bird and they both insisted on buying my school things.” The Potters both look uncomfortable at that, the reminder they hadn’t done the same, and Hari feels just spiteful enough she’s willing to sacrifice a little pride. “But something really did come up, the matron had me under punishment when Professor Snape came, and I wasn’t acceptable to go out on such short notice. From what I’m told he was busy the next day and the Malfoys offered for me to stay with them; Draco _is_ dramatic and terribly loud but he’s not awful company.”

Hari has to twist it slightly, of course, because she hadn’t actually been given a choice, but no one here would believe the Malfoys had good intentions.

Like she knew they would, her words inspire the adults to look closer as if there might be signs of what punishment meant and Lily Potter gasps. “Hari! Are those from Wools?”

The bruises in question were already quite faded and hadn’t been all that noticeable against her skin in the first place but they lightly line the back of her hands and up her arms. Lucius had gripped his walking stick so tightly upon noticing them when they talked strategy the previous night that Hari thought the wood might crack.

Hari knows it’s not normal to carry bruises like that, even less so in wizarding society, but she also can’t help but think they all look like fools for looking so shocked. After all, she never tried to make it sound like she actually liked Wools.

“They don’t last, and they don’t really do more than sting. The matron has a wooden ruler she calls the rod and claims that it’s blessed by holy water so helps drive out the evil.” Hari can’t quite hide her smirk, “Not true, clearly, ‘cause I snapped it in half once so she had to get a new one.”

The resulting punishment had been worth it solely for the vindictive pleasure she claimed for it. “She confiscated the presents my friends sent so I – accidentally – broke all the windows on the ground floor and stole them back.” She adds in explanation of the punishment and wonders if someone would keel over if she mentioned her actual punishment.

The four all look so very uncomfortable and Hari finds that it’s much different from the Malfoy’s reactions. Narcissa offers advice on how to leave as well as tips for her inevitable revenge while Lucius looked like he has his own plans of how to destroy Wools completely. Hari knows Draco has every intention of coming with her to help her burn the place down regardless of whether she asks him. But these four seem stuck with worry and Hari will go straight back to the floo if they, Morgana forbid, try to offer some meaningless platitudes.

Molly Weasley shakes her head and Hari waits ready to go straight back to the Malfoy’s. “The rest of the kids are just outside. We’re waiting on the Grangers and the Tonks but that’s all and then we’ll start the bonfire.”

Hari takes the escape even if it means being surrounded by redheads and finds the group sat on the grass with Adrian visibly perking up when he sees her. She’s left to wonder, again, one simple question: _why_?

“Hey, Hari, I’m glad you decided to come.” Adrian grins up at her and Hari decides it was an inspired decision not to risk her good clothes before sitting on the grass and evaluating just who she was stuck with.

The eldest ( _?_ ) Weasley had somehow found a way out of the gathering and Hari feels a little disappointed because the Gryffindor prefect would have been an excellent Slytherin by all accounts and offered a potential ally through the day. The notorious Weasley twins are there and Hari reminds herself to never turn her back on them lest she fall victim to one of their pranks, then the wonder duo and the lone Weasley girl from Diagon.

“You can only take so much of Draco at once,” she replies dryly, carefully placing her legs under her and finding herself both next to Adrian and across from Ron.

The redhead proves his talent in getting on her very last nerve once more. “You’re the one who decided to be friends with the git.” He huffs and Hari raises an eyebrow, “And I was just starting to feel sorry for threatening you.”

An outright lie, it would be stretching the truth to say she even felt sorry for temporarily abandoning Draco in favour of books, but he flushes at the reminder.

Adrian glares at them both with an ire Hari has rarely seen on him. “Cut it out, both of you, we’re not at school. Can you both quit this house rivalry stuff for a day?” Ron looks at the grass but doesn’t outright refuse so she shrugs and decides to try for the sake of keeping the day somewhat bearable. “Happy late birthday, by the way, we were going to send an owl, but Dumbledore had me training all week and I thought it’d be better to wait till we saw you. I got you a present, honest, but it’s back at the manor ‘cause I wrapped it up for you for September.”

“Yeah, happy birthday to you too. It’s fine, I got plenty from my friends anyway.”

(Hari had gotten those presents back since being at the Malfoy’s. She and Draco had finished off the chocolates, Narcissa had made a particular face Hari couldn’t understand over the jewellery Blaise sent, the hair pins were being put to good use today, and Hari was very happy to find the dagger returned.

Daphne had brought it over after the trip to Diagon and Draco had stared between them before seeming to both decide that it was absolutely expected of them and not his problem seeing as he didn’t dorm with either of them. Lucius had choked on a glass of wine and Narcissa had hit him on the back so casually that it became clear the woman had been forced to save her husbands life many times over in much the same way.

The Lord and Lady Greengrass hadn’t even asked about why their daughter wanted to purchase such a thing for her friend. Daphne claimed that her parents instituted a don’t ask, don’t tell policy when she was eight years old and turned some pebbles into a weapon against a pureblood bullying her younger sister. So long as they didn’t think anyone would die, they would simply comply and keep an eye on the situation.

Hari doubts anyone at this gathering would simply accept the dagger was her favourite possession now, though she imagines the twins might find some amusement in it, so doesn’t mention the contents of her gifts.)

An awkward silence reigns over the group for a long moment and Hari imagines it’s because she’s an intruder on a long held dynamic. Draco and Pansy could be the same some days when they started holding entire conversations in silence.

“What’s the Malfoy estate like? I heard someone mention peacocks once.” Adrian asks and it proves the perfect icebreaker because the Weasley twins jump on it before she can open her mouth.

“Do they have dungeons?”

“Who do they keep in the dungeons?”

“Do they have muggles in the dungeons?”

Hari laughs at the second question and would fall into Adrian if she were not using one hand for balance. “Have you _seen_ the Malfoys?” She asks before shaking her head, laughter still colouring her words. “I think kidnapping and torturing muggles would ruin their manicures.” At least, they would never do it in their own home because you never know when polite company might visit. Hari decides not to point that out. “Anyway, they have trained albino attack peacocks to guard the grounds. One of them chased me and Draco across the entire pitch – we made a game to see who could fly away the fastest – and Lord Malfoy was devastated we were being so cruel to poor Alberta.”

Even Ron, always determined to dislike her, dissolves into laugher and Hari calls it a victory. She had spent two hours exactly discussing with Lucius just how much was publicly available about the manor so she wouldn’t accidentally risk their defences. Everyone knew about the peacocks, but few knew that the creatures were intelligent, they would never attack a friend, so she leaves out the detail that they had used treats to cause the chase. Lucius had been pleasantly surprised by her forward thinking, but Hari liked being one step ahead of her enemies.

“I don’t understand how you can bare to be around them.” Hari rolls her eyes at the sound of Granger, the girl unhappily taking a seat next to Ron with such a severe frown that her face might set that way. “The Malfoys are blood supremacists – they would have wanted _your_ mum dead, and me, and they use foul language against muggles. Don’t you live with muggles too?”

From the corner of her eye Hari notices Adrian making abort motions without even a touch of subtlety.

“Have you ever actually talked to a Malfoy?” Hari asks, forcing a small smile with no attempt at making it seem genuine. “I do live with muggles, yes, and those muggles gave me these bruises and a few of these scars and they think that magic is the product of satanism. The Malfoys are far better company, I assure you. Not everyone is as lucky as you when it comes to muggles Granger.” The casual wave of her arm to demonstrate draws attention yet again but more importantly to the scar across her bicep. It’s far more jagged than the one across her right elbow.

“Woah!” The twin with four more freckles and a slightly rounder face yells.

“That’s wicked!” Comes the twin an inch taller with a broader nose.

“How’d you get it?” They both say.

Hari wonders if that might get annoying but she’s happy with how mortified Granger looks so shrugs. “Loads of the windows are nailed shut ‘cause I once broke my arm sneaking out. Last Christmas I was there, I broke a window on the second floor to sneak out so it wouldn’t lead back to me but, well, I caught my arm on the glass. I fixed it myself after reading a book on first aid so I wouldn’t have to admit it was me and it wasn’t my best idea because it healed weird.”

The twins look first at her then at Adrian.

“Potter!” Inch Taller says almost as dramatically as Draco.

“How dare you not tell us –” Four Freckles continues before handing back to Inch Taller.

“– That your twin was so fun!”

Hari snorts, allowing herself a single undignified reaction.

“I didn’t know.” Adrian mutters and stares at the grass.

There’s no time to wonder just what he was pouting about because Ron breaks back into the conversation. “ _You_ actually break rules? **You**.” The boy demands, voice rising incredulously, and Hari raises her eyebrows at him. “You literally boast about how many points you earn! You’ve probably never even got points taken off you.”

Hari leans back and tangles one hand in the grass. “That would be because Slytherins are adaptable. If we’re going to do something, we don’t rush in without thinking. If I’m going to break the rules I’m going to plan it first. Did you three even consider asking for help before you nearly ran to your deaths or am I wrong?”

The trio in question all flush in response.

“We did try to ask someone.” Granger mutters and glares at the ground like she hated that fact.

Hari has a terrible feeling about this.

“We couldn’t find you and didn’t know where your common room is to ask you.” Adrian adds cheerily.

The twins and Ginny fall over laughing at the way Hari looks at the three lost somewhere in the realm between shock and horror. She had thought Granger, at least, was somewhat intelligent.

“I meant a _teacher_.” Hari hisses and has to pull herself back from parseltongue. “What possessed you to think I could – or would – help you? I would have marched you straight to Professor Snape.” She continues very slowly in case the extra time would help them think up a decent answer.

The trio all look to each other like they need a hint.

“We thought Snape was responsible.” Adrian admits.

Hari counts that as strike one, and if she hits three then she’s leaving.

“You seem very…we thought you might wanna get revenge for that thing with your broom.” Ron offers.

Hari closes her eyes and silently counts to five in both English and parseltongue.

“Did…did no one tell you that?” Adrian asks a few seconds later and she imagines her frustration is clear on her face by the nerves in his voice.

“No. No one did tell me what happened. If you’re planning on telling me it was to get to you then, really, don’t.”

Seeing as Adrian doesn’t reply she safely concludes that she needs to obliviate her relation to the Potters from the entire country if she ever wants peace. “Well, at least I don’t need to worry about my broom trying to kill me next year.” She finally decides and her twin relaxes slightly next to her.

“Don’t get too confident – me and ‘Rian are gonna get on the Gryffindor team next year. You have to worry about us beating you then.” Ron declares with a grin that was probably charming to anyone else.

Hari lets him bask in that confidence for less than a minute. “If that somehow happens, I’ll find a way to end the match in five minutes.” Hari enjoyed the time in the air, flying around the pitch waiting to find the snitch, but she doesn’t really want to play opposite either boy. Lee Jordan’s commentary was fun enough, but he probably wouldn’t be able to resist making jokes about she and Adrian being on opposing teams.

“So, you’d cheat just not to play us – the snakes must be terrible if you’re that scared to face us.”

Hari looks at him, blank faced, before she settles on a reply because he had to realise she simply didn’t want to play him. “Suck my dick, Weasley.”

She lets her practiced accent slip for a moment and it’s received with whooping laughter from the twins while Adrian sniggers. “The bloody hell was that accent.” Ron splutters and so Hari takes up a handful of grass and dirt to throw in his face. Her usual responses clearly didn’t work so maybe something more on his level might.

“Adrian, we’re sorry.” Four Freckles says.

“You’re sacked.” Inch Taller adds.

“Hari’s our new favourite.”

Hari leans into Adrian ever so slightly. “Please swap back.”

Both twins rear back and clutch their hearts as if she shot them. Everyone promptly decides to leave them lying there to recover.

“Don’t tear up their garden!” Granger scowls at her and, well, it’s a universally known truth that Hari loves to show off.

The torn-up grass had left only a small dip in the ground and Hari rests her palm over it and pours in her magic. She has never felt close to the earth, not to any element really, because her magic has always been destructive. To create was so much harder than breaking the things around her or hurting those who wanted to harm her; this wasn’t the fault of dark magic because dark magic could create beautiful things, it could create new limbs and heal curse wounds, the fault lay with Hari herself. Her magic simply wasn’t suited to fixing things. So, Hari has to put in more effort than usual here, forcing her magic through, even if she doesn’t so much as break a sweat.

Oddly, in a way she doesn’t want to put much thought into, it goes far easier than usual. She had tried this same trick plenty of times over the years of helping with the garden at Wools and knows how long it usually took to regrow the grass. This time, sat next to Adrian, comes so much easier to her and in only two minutes the patch of grass is regrown even healthier than what she tore up.

Hari pretends she’s not at all surprised, pushing it to the back of her mind, to smirk at them and remove her hand.

“How – you’ll get a letter.” The girl – Hari thinks she’s called Ginny – says with just a touch of panic. Hari cuts her off with a laugh, “No I won’t. I didn’t use any spells. They might think I used accidental magic if they ever notice. I’ve been using the same trick in the garden for years during chores.”

It’s disappointing that she has to explain this to children raised in the magical world. “And the ministry only tracks by location. They set up wards in locations with known muggleborns but if you went to Diagon tomorrow they wouldn’t know unless you were seen. They just like to scare underage wizards to lower the risk.” She wonders how they thought Adrian got to do all this training with Dumbledore without flagging up at the ministry all the time.

“You don’t need to boast,” Granger complains, and Hari assumes the ire in her voice is just frustration at not having known so laughs again.

“Bet Malfoy taught you that.” Ron scowls, voice turning nasty, and Hari realises it wasn’t annoyance at not having known. They were annoyed she knew in the first place. “He had to if even ‘Mione didn’t know. Everyone knows he has a huge crush on you, no wonder he let you live with him and told you all this stuff.”

Hari narrows her eyes and finds any goodwill gone. “I wasn’t trying to be mean about it. I thought you would’ve known, it’s an open secret with ministry employees.”

Ron still scowls at her but Granger scoffs and join in. “He’s not wrong, is he?” The girl points out and completely ignores just how red Adrian is getting. “Malfoy is disgustingly blatant about it, and you look like you’re leading him on too. Guess it’s easy for people like us to fit in with Slytherin if you get a pureblood trailing after you.”

The twins both look at the sky uncomfortably and Adrian looks about ready to blow but Hari presses her nails into her palm and beats her anger down at the implication her friends aren’t her own. She wishes she could tell them just how she earned her place by her own merits and only a little help from Luca.

“Firstly, I’m not going to entertain the idea of fucking a white man.” Adrian coughs, making a vague noise of alarm at her statement. “Secondly, if I were given the choice, I’d rather kiss you, Granger, over any boy. Not that I don’t like boys too.” She smiles slyly in the girl’s direction and enjoys just how alarmed she looks. “Don’t look so worried, you’re not my first choice. I dorm with Pansy Parkinson and I think we can all agree that she’s very pretty.”

There’s a resounding silence from all the boys who look ready to make a run for it before they get pushed into answering. “See? Very pretty.” Granger, thankfully, seems to shut up to avoid keeping Hari’s attention.

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t change the fact Malfoy follows you everywhere all lovesick. It’s really gross. He just wants to get up your skirt – I bet if you gave him a kiss then he’d be done with you and toss you out, only being a half-blood and all.” Ron sneers and, apparently, this might be too much because even Granger throws a glare his way.

Hari doesn’t care about how the others glare or how furious Adrian looks. “For your information, Weasel, Draco’s been one of the best friends I’ve ever had without trying to ever get up my skirt. He even invited me to his family’s Yule ball, and not as his date, because snakes would never turn on each other for something so stupid.” She gets up to leave because she’s half tempted to break his nose right there since biting him isn’t an option. “And I did offer him a kiss at Yule, but some boys are gentlemen, and he didn’t accept, you absolutely _vile_ little boy.”

And Hari marches off without any direction but away because she was going to hex him within an inch of his life if she stayed. She wants to leave, to go back to the Malfoys, but she doubts she would even be able to get the words out in English if she tried. It’s still hard to keep her fangs in now because her control is excellent, but the taunt had gotten her so riled up she needs to let her anger out on something.

Draco is her friend. Hari knows that, she even believes what she said, and she knows Draco wouldn’t turn on her for something so very dull. Draco, after all, was drawn to her power rather than _her_ and he would realise that soon enough himself. Knowing something as fact, however, doesn’t stop her mind from working against her and sowing doubt. She was so weak, once, hoping that someone might actually see her, and no one ever had until Hogwarts.

Hari has faith in Draco, she just wishes she didn’t doubt herself so very often.

Ungracefully, Hari sits herself down some way from the Burrow. She can still see it to get back eventually but for now she lays down and lets her magic run free. The sun feels colder on her skin and the tall grass around her sways in a non-existent breeze and Hari stares at the clouds.

“Ron’s a right git sometimes.” Hari turns her head to find the Weasley girl standing there awkwardly but completely alone. “Just sometimes?” She replies dryly which seems to help the girl relax slightly.

“Adrian had a right go at him after you left. I’ve never seen them fight like that, he’s even mad at Hermione, and mum’s been telling him off too, but he was pretty embarrassed after you yelled at him anyway. I think your parents are just worried ‘bout where you’ve gone off to.” Ginny continues and the Potters are somehow the least interesting part despite how little interest she had in any of it.

Hari sighs and pushes herself up before pulling her magic back in and putting Ron to the back of her mind. “I guess I should go back then. Let’s not run though.”

Ginny snorts but they start walking back side by side as slowly as possible. “Um…here, by the way. I heard…it must’ve been sad not having any family at your birthday and you probably didn’t get a lot of gifts before. I got this at Diagon without realising but it’s pretty useless to me anyway.” The redhead thrusts out an object and Hari only takes it because Ginny looks like she’s going to force it into her hands regardless.

Hari doesn’t inspect it, looking at the ground instead, but she does hold it tightly. “…Thanks.” Ginny talks a lot about nothing at all important when Hari doesn’t have anything to add, keeping the walk from falling into silence, and Hari doesn’t speak again until they’re breaking out of the tall grass. “You’re going to Hogwarts next year, right.” She asks and the girl nods warily. “What house are you hoping for?”

The redhead stops walking to look at her flatly. “Don’t say you’re trying to recruit me for Slytherin. Just ‘cause you’re pretty alright doesn’t mean I wanna talk to Malfoy every day.”

Hari laughs. “Nah, you don’t seem like Slytherin material. You Weasleys seem pretty impulsive.”

Luckily, Ginny doesn’t seem to take any offence. “It’s a compliment, really, the whole family’s always been Gryffindor.” Hari grins at her, eyebrows raised, “The Potters were all Gryffindor ‘till me too. You should be a puff, make a splash two years in a row.”

Ginny laughs as they finally reach the Weasley’s garden. “You just want me in a different house to torture Ron, don’t you?” Hari keeps her grin but doesn’t confirm a thing.

“There you two are! Oh, I was worried you’d gotten lost Hari.” Molly Weasley says from the doorway and Hari shakes her head. “I was just trying to get some air. I didn’t think anyone but the twins would enjoy it if I broke Ron’s nose.” Ginny coughs to cover her laugh and Hari mentally revises the list to include her.

The Weasley matriarch sighs. “He really might have deserved it. That boy…not how I raised him, mind you.”

The Potters both brighten up when they see her in one piece, but Adrian keeps glaring at Ron, maybe even more so upon seeing her, and Hari is forced to admit Daphne may have been right to say they looked alike when mad.

“Sorry, Hari.” The boy in question mutters but Hari’s sure it’s for Adrian’s benefit rather than hers. “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have…egged him on.” Hermione adds far more sincerely.

Hari takes an open space at the table beside Ginny. “Accepted and thank you.” She says to each respectively. She notes, absently, there are more people than when she left including a couple around the Weasley parents age and a young woman with bright purple hair but all three are grouped up with the Potters and Weasleys.

“You’re alright for a Slytherin.” Inch Taller begins almost threateningly.

“But I hope you weren’t trying to recruit.” Four Freckles continues with just a touch more menace.

“Our dear _only_ sister to Slytherin.”

Ginny rolls her eyes at the both of them, but Hari leans back in her chair. “Never. You’re all far too brash for Slytherin – I tried to recruit her on the puff’s behalf.” She counters.

The purple haired woman cheers loudly and makes a rushed excuse to clumsily make her way over and join them at the table. Hari watches the display with a little worry, especially when a disaster nearly happens in the form of a shoe hooked on a chair leg, but no one else seems to pay it any attention at all. “I like her. I’m Tonks – my mum’ll probably love you. She was a Slytherin too, but I was a Hufflepuff.”

The woman Hari assumed must be Tonks mum sighs loudly and Hari decides to ask later about how similar she looked to Narcissa.

“What does make a Slytherin then, ‘cause Ginny’s mean enough.” Ron huffs and promptly avoids his sister’s gaze.

Tonks mum must decide to chip in out of old house pride. “Mean isn’t a trait of Slytherin house, dear, it’s merely a coincidence the more vocal students are.”

Tracey was far from mean and Theo wasn’t much better at sticking up for himself either, so Hari nods in agreement before deciding to answer the question. “Cunning and ambition, obviously, but also principles and adaptability. The ability, willingness, and patience to do whatever will achieve your goals. High goals too, not short term.” She lists off without pause. “A Slytherin must be smart in how they stand by their principles, not running into things headfirst. Not so much a trait but we don’t break the rules as much as you either.”

“Yes! Yes, yes you do!” Hermione accuses but Hari is quick to cut her off. “Oh, I would never break the Hogwarts rules and admit it in front of two professors who could keep that in mind come term time.” Hari doesn’t try to sound all that sincere, but appearances are important. “Honestly, I’d think it was a Gryffindor trait to want to get caught. I’ve never seen _your_ pranks in action, but I swear it’s like you want everyone to know it’s you for the recognition.”

The twins both grin at each other and Hari decides that yes, they definitely want to be caught.

“We’re not that bad – you’re just biased against Gryffindor!” Adrian complains.

Hari looks to Tonks as one of the few not Gryffindors available and finds her sniggering, so she crosses her arms and sighs. “You decided to go fight what you thought was one of your own teachers who was very aware of everything you’ve studied all year. Despite having two individuals you should implicitly trust in the castle you still only considered asking another first year for help before fighting a wraith. As the headmaster said, that utter reckless stupidity is the epitome of the Gryffindor spirit.”

The trio are all shrunk in their seats like she might continue to tear them apart if they’re at eye level. “I rest my case. You Gryffindors are another breed entirely. If we need more proof, there’s that whole business with the dragon –”

Tonks laughs so hard Hari cuts herself off in surprise and when she glances around she finds the group of adults are similarly trying to hide their own amused reactions. Hari wonders, half-heartedly, if she had torn into them more for their utter stupidity than their parents had.

When she looks back to the table, she finds Adrian smirking and, unsure of what exactly turned his mood so quickly, she narrows her eyes at him. “So, in your opinion, Gryffindors are reckless and throw themselves into danger and trouble?”

Hari watches him closely, mind screaming it’s a trap, before nodding.

“Well, wasn’t it very Gryffindor of you to go after that diary despite never flying before?”

She doesn’t even try to hide her absolute horror at the awful accusation. “You take that back!”

The table howls with laughter and she refuses to look back and confirm the Potters too are probably laughing.

“Knew there had to be a Gryffindor in you somewhere.” Ron says through his laughter and that’s dangerously close to her final straw.

.

Food is a small and quick affair, mostly sandwiches and picnic type snacks, and Tonks mother Andromeda finds some time to pull her aside and ask her how she is in Slytherin. Apparently house loyalty still remained even after leaving the castle.

The bonfire is fairly big, around the size of the one held in a park near Wools every year, and Adrian tells her they would usually do it at the Potter’s manor, but it was easier to hold it at the Burrow rather than corral all the Weasley kids there. He also explains it was a family tradition started decades ago where the Potters would invite other influential families to network and arrange marriage contracts but over the years it had just turned into an excuse to have a party.

What no one had told her was part of the tradition involved the adults drinking while everyone danced by the fire. Hari would run the length of Diagon before agreeing if she’d been warned. The twins take exactly one look at her challenging glare before deciding that attempting to force her to join would end badly and quickly leave her alone.

Adrian, unfortunately, has no sense of self preservation and ignores every warning sign she gives him. “It’s part of the party!” Her twin whines childishly.

“I wasn’t told, and I don’t care.” Hari replies flatly and returns to counting the seconds until she can leave.

He tugs on her arm weakly like it might push her into suddenly joining. “One dance! Just one.”

Hari puts both her arms behind her back and out of reach. “If you try to make me dance, I am gonna hit you so hard magic can’t fix it.”

He does pause at her threat, but she only grows more suspicious because nothings ever actually scared him off. Her suspicions are confirmed when she’s suddenly jostled forward by Tonks who happily ignores her growing protests and complaints and keeps her there.

.

Hari doesn’t get to go back to the Malfoy’s until she’s been passed between Tonks, both Potters, Adrian, the twins and Ginny. The twins had refused to give up the chance now she wasn’t outright murderous though Hari couldn’t call that dancing when it resembled jumping in a circle. Ginny had been the most bearable but only because the girl had plenty to say.

Dobby, the Malfoy’s head elf, appears in the receiving room to tell her Lucius and Draco were still at the ministry and Narcissa was occupied in the study so Hari quickly retreats to the guest room she had been provided.

The gift Ginny had given her, still unexamined, is shoved onto a bookshelf and the reminder of the afternoon it provides makes her magic flare up again. She had put Ron’s taunts to the back of her mind because she hadn’t worked out all of her anger before Ginny arrived, she pulls it in tight before it can slip and damage anything because it feels violent inside of her.

“Miss Hari Gerard, mistress asks you join her for tea in the garden.” Dobby says, popping into existence behind her, and quickly flees when her magic lashes out at him on instinct. Hari takes multiple deep breaths before going to join Narcissa in the garden.

Narcissa sits with two cups, enjoying the sun, and barely looks up. “Are you alright, Hari?” The woman asks and Hari concludes her frustration must show clear on her face as she sits. “Dobby informed me that you nearly took his arm off just now. I assume your visit was unpleasant.”

Hari doesn’t dare touch the waiting cup; afraid she might destroy something so delicate. “Ronald Weasley is a foul excuse for a wixen besides being a blood traitor.” Hari scowls at the perfectly trimmed hedges and sighs when it’s clear Narcissa is going to wait for her to elaborate. “He said some…he made some foul comments about my friendship with Draco and implied some nasty things about Draco’s character.”

The blond hums, placing her cup down with manners that shame Hari. “Ah, it was about Draco’s crush then?” Hari nods but still scowls at the innocent rows of greenery. “The Weasley’s are incredibly confident in their ideas despite having no idea what they speak of. I imagine he brought up your blood status, implying Draco wouldn’t otherwise be your friend?” Hari reluctantly nods again.

“Did you know that, despite certain claims, the Malfoys have never been against half-bloods. They will not marry muggleborns without special permission, but blood status is not something they fear. In fact, they are one of the few old British families that allow marriages to magical creatures. Lucius’s mother was half veela and they’ve lost the charm but still hold that part of the family tree proudly. The main branch of the Blacks are stricter but other branches don’t forbid it.”

Hari blinks owlishly, scowl falling in surprise. “I never thought there was any truth to it – and I’ve never doubted your son’s friendship. He’s the most sensitive in respecting my boundaries and he tries to be discreet even if he’s terrible at it. I never doubted him.” Hari quickly protests in the worry that the matriarch thought Hari had been turned against them after all they’ve done for her.

“Of course not, Hari, but I imagine you’re aware that as witches we face far more scrutiny.” Narcissa soothes even if it sounds like she feels resigned herself. “It is unfair but it’s our burden and it’s natural that at some point you might doubt yourself.”

Hari closes her eyes and focuses on keeping herself together.

“It is unfortunate that so few ever see our true faces, focused instead on our beauty, and I cannot imagine the horrible ways muggles may have acted towards you. But you are a Black by blood, Hari, and the Black women are known for hiding our brilliance behind our beauty. No one ever expects such a pretty thing to be so dangerous.” Narcissa continues softly.

Hari opens her eyes to find concern on that classically unruffled face. “I’m tired of that being all they see. I defeated a troll two months into term and Weasel thought Draco just wanted my skirts.” She admits and attempts to take the cup of tea only for her magic to reach it first and shatter the fine china.

Narcissa doesn’t even raise an eyebrow. “There are a wide array of grounds, feel free to let your magic loose as needed.”

She cannot help her scoff. “Thank you but your grounds are far too nice for that.”

The blond repairs the broken cup with a laugh before gesturing to the hedges. “And they will survive. I only ask that you step past that line, there are wards there to protect both the manor and yourself.”

Hari hesitates until the woman nods encouragingly and it is only when she is passed the marked hedges that she does let go. She lets go in a way she never has, letting the magic dance through her very being. Hari is unaware that Narcissa watches closely and thinks about how the Dark Lord has used these same grounds once though he would turn his pent-up power on the people who displeased him instead.

.

When Lucius returns a short while later, having been told his wife was still outside, he finds those trimmed hedges dying and reviving in a never-ending cycle. He finds stray pebbles and gravel hovering in the air and he finds his wife drinking tea and watching calmly.

“She was rather frustrated when she arrived back. If she tried to restrain herself any longer, she might have blown up half the manor.” His wife tells him nonchalantly and Lucius sinks into the other seat, “She’s remarkably powerful considering her age.”

Narcissa chuckles. “That would be putting it mildly, Lucius.” She chides because they are far above simply stating the obvious.

“I hope she keeps her wits about her. The Lord will return eventually, and if he isn’t certain she is on his side…” Lucius doesn’t finish, isn’t quite able, because he’s grown fond of the girl in only a matter of days. He cannot truly consider killing her should she choose the bonds of blood.

His wife shakes her head, not seeming nearly as concerned as he feels. “Normally, I would hate to see a mother separated from her child. But the Potters did that to themselves, they keep pushing her away every time they refuse to truly see her. She has an excellent mask for a child, but any adult should be able to see through it.” She looks to him with the smallest of smiles. “I think she chose which side she stands a long time ago, dear.”

.

Hari doesn’t think about the gift again until she’s about to retire for bed and spies the worn black binding sitting on the shelf. Ginny had, after all, given it to her with the best of intentions and it would be unfair to leave it forgotten.

Taking it to the bed, Hari sits under the blankets and inspects the covers, flipping through empty discoloured pages that reveal its age. The Weasley’s must have picked it up from a second-hand store in Diagon and Hari wonders how an unused journal ended up there in the first place because someone had clearly spent money on it in the first place.

The journal feels strangely warm in her hands, but she puts that down to exhaustion. She runs her fingers over a name embellished in gold on the front, a blocky ‘ _T. M. Riddle._ ’ and Hari absently considers the fact that Riddle wasn’t a wizarding name.

Hari isn’t partial to keeping a journal, writing her secrets for someone else to read only invites disaster for someone like her, but it would be helpful to have somewhere to write down her thoughts and research. Ginny, too, might appreciate seeing her gift actually put to use around Hogwarts.

Somehow, without thinking about it, Hari falls asleep that night still holding the strange empty diary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucius: what do you have there  
> Hari: a knife  
> Lucius, suddenly choking: a whAT
> 
> I'm not saying James's brain was like the windows shutting down noise but....I am saying it was like when a webpage is unresponsive and his options were wait or apparate into the middle of the ocean. 
> 
> Last note but Hermione's silence was not homophobic alarm, she was having a moment of gay panic where she realised she is definitely attracted to this very mean slytherin. If Hari wasn't Adrians sister Hermione would wanna kiss her especially because of the scary mean part.


	10. It's bound to take your life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hogwarts term starts and Hari considers the ethical dilemma of murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I might need a week break but then I thought about Tom Riddle and like. I guess??? The power of our favourite cockney bigot gave me strength. But here I am presenting you with *gestures wildily* this. I'm probably going to have to adjust my posting schedule because I just started posting a serotonin HP fic too but we will see. 
> 
> As is obvious, the class schedule probably barely aligns with the books. I actually drafted my own schedule for second year over the course of 2 hours and tears. Every class is now doubled up because THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH TEACHERS JKR LEARN MATH. Also if you want to know my fancast for horcrux Tom it's Simonas Pham.
> 
> A general warning, not for this chapter, but reminder there is a reason why I have a warning in the tags for grooming. The relationship between Hari and Tom won't be sexual or really romantic but it will probably be uncomfortable at times. I just don't want anyone to go into it blind <3
> 
> Anyway this chapter doesn't really have any actual warnings I think ? There's a 12 year old who really likes murder but like that's about it. Thank you for all the comments and kudos, I loved seeing people get excited about the diary thing honestly, so let's get on with this! I have no beta and canon was the friends we made along the way.

Summer at the Malfoy’s passes all too fast between the never-ending rotation of friends that visit and Lucius Malfoy’s regular impromptu lessons about politics and high society. Hari enjoys herself at the manor more than she enjoyed the power struggles in the Slytherin common room because the Malfoys don’t need to be tackled with a mask.

The Potters don’t push any more visits on her, she wonders if they’re wary of her actually assaulting the Weasel if they’re in close proximity again. Ginny’s gift, unfortunately, is never put to use because both Lucius and Narcissa welcome any questions she might have so there’s no need to note anything down to figure out later.

When September rolls around the departure is…strange. Narcissa was tearful at the very idea of sending them off on the train, and on the platform she hugs them both tightly. Hari tries to hide her alarm but probably fails spectacularly because it wasn’t often she was confronted with a pureblood lady at the edge of tears. Lucius isn’t so blatant with a show of emotion, but he squeezes both of their shoulders and bids them goodbye with the promise they will write.

Draco tells her that this was typical of his mother and Narcissa would probably be counting down the days until Yule break.

They find a compartment and their friends but, despite seeing her regularly throughout the summer, Tracey makes a point of sitting as close to her as possible. Hari allows it because she’s still relieved they managed to avoid the Potters and Weasleys on the platform.

Around the time the train departs Hari realises she spoke too soon, because the twins somehow find their compartment, insisting that they must greet their favourite snake. Her friends all being in one place brings with it familiar chaos and bickering and somehow the twins make it worse by offering up some prototype pranks they’ve been working on.

“Can Adrian go back to being your favourite?” Hari asks dryly and they don’t even pretend to be offended this time. The twins both claim seats without an invitation and no signs of unease surrounded by snakes.

“Absolutely not.” Four Freckles declares, probably so loud the next two carriages could hear.

“We’ve nurtured Adrian’s chaotic side as much as we can.”

“You’re our new padawan.”

Tracey, pressing closer into Hari’s side like the twins might be a threat to her place as the favourite, looks up at the two suspiciously. “Do you even know what a padawan is?”

The twins both look at the half-blood head on. “Not a clue!” They declare together and Hari rolls her eyes. “Lee taught us it but didn’t explain.”

Finally having enough, Hari waves a hand at them and gestures for them to leave, “Out, before you break my friends.”

This spurs the purebloods back into action solely out of offence at being called broken. If they didn’t want her to say it, she thinks, they shouldn’t have sat there so blankly trying to work out what a _padawan_ was.

The twins do finally vacate looking rather smug as they do.

“…What is a padawan?” Blaise asks after footsteps trail away.

“Why would _you_ be a padawan?” Theo adds in.

Hari closes her eyes and counts to ten.

“I’m not telling you,” Tracey says sweetly as if she’s not damning them to a week of pureblood confusion. Hari leans her head against Tracey’s shoulder and cracks one eye open, “If you ask me then I’ll hex you.”

The purebloods all pretend like they hadn’t been about to turn to her, but the false innocence isn’t convincing in the slightest. What immediately follows is her friends making a list of the half-bloods and muggleborns who might actually be open to telling them.

.

Hari is proud to say she hadn’t even noticed Adrian’s absence at the feast until Draco points it out. Sure enough, the Gryffindor table is absent both Adrian Potter and Ronald Weasley. By the Potter’s worried faces they don’t know the reason either.

“He’s probably trying to make a dramatic entrance,” Theo suggests, and Hari resists the urge to snap at him that she doesn’t care. If her twin missed the train then what did it matter to her, Dumbledore would probably go get him without a problem. Instead, she pointedly strikes up a conversation with Daphne about just how terribly they both think DADA will go this year.

Pansy, ever so delicately, elbows Hari in the side around the time McGonagall leads in the first years and Hari notices the flash of red hair that always indicated a Weasley. Ginny nervously glances her way after looking over the Gryffindor table and Hari offers the girl a small smile because she’s a little keen to see how this goes.

As usual, barely a fraction of the first years get sorted into Slytherin and those that do get a muted applause from the rest of the hall. When the hat is placed on the head of one Ginny Weasley it stays quiet for a surprisingly long time, far too long for a family that went to Gryffindor without fail.

“Aren’t all the Weasels Gryffindors?” Bulstrode asks a few seats down and Hari doesn’t pay attention to the response.

She hadn’t _really_ been trying to turn Ginny off Gryffindor, the girl had been right to say Hari just wanted to annoy Ron, but maybe she had influenced her slightly. Then, to the astonishment of the entire hall, the hat shouts _Slytherin_.

“ _Fuck_.” Hari hisses through her teeth but forces herself to clap along with the rest of the house.

Blaise looks at her with comically wide eyes, “How did you manage this.” She really hates that she can’t even deny it’s her fault.

Draco, suddenly, starts laughing. “Weasels going to be so mad.”

Hari looks between Daphne and Pansy who have both seemingly reached the same stage as Hari; knowing this was a natural disaster in the making. A catastrophe of epic proportions. Slytherin was the Library of Alexandria and it was on fire.

“She’ll report back to Dumbledore – to her whole family – to the Potters.” Hari shakes her head, already tackling the ways this was going to end badly for her and considering the ethical dilemma of getting rid of the girl quickly. Her house was meant to be safe, in the Slytherin common room she could relax her mask and punish anyone who went against her, but Ginny is a Weasley. The redhead would never keep quiet or care about the rules that bonded their house. Why would Ginny care about a house she didn’t want to be in full of people her family insisted were evil.

“We won’t even be able to talk in our own common room.” Blaise says, sounding as miserable as she feels, and Draco abandons words to simply drop his head to the table. The rest of their house seems to be realising the same and Hari remembers how they all closed ranks on her last year.

Unlike her, Ginny wouldn’t recognise how to demand respect in the snake pit. The girl was going to get eaten alive.

Hari might feel some sympathy if the situation wasn’t just as bad for them.

Half the table takes the initiative to cast silencing charms, including Hari, and she can barely stomach the way Tracey and Theo bounce off each other to suggest ways this might turn out well. The forced optimism is nauseating when what they need is action.

When the feast is coming to an end, Hari gets up to go find Farley. “The old potions room – we go there after breakfast. If we have to make it our new common room until we know how to stop her snitching, then that’s what we do.” She tells her friends and doesn’t wait for a response before taking off to get permission to break the rules.

The first years are being rounded up when Hari pulls Ginny aside. “I got permission to walk you to the common room alone.” She explains and the girl looks so relieved that it just proves this was a good idea.

“Thanks. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk.” Ginny admits and Hari has to give her points for perceptiveness. If there wasn’t something more at stake, then she would have avoided the first year like she carried the plague. “I was a bit surprised is all. I’m not usually wrong.”

Late night explorations come in handy because Hari easily takes them on a different route to the common room so they can talk privately without keeping anyone waiting. “How are you feeling?” She asks then and lets Ginny think the worry in her voice is for her rather than the fear the girl might be upset and ready to vent her feelings.

Merlin forbid Ginny starts crying because then Hari would have to simply leave her to find her own way there.

“I made a splash,” Ginny says, calling back to their last talk, but it sounds hollow, so Hari offers a smile that probably doesn’t reach her eyes. She doubts Ginny will notice. “Did you see Ron anywhere? The twins didn’t look happy either, did they? I know you’re a decent Slytherin so you’re – we’re – not all _bad_.” 

Hari carefully looks straight ahead because she is very sure no one has honestly called her a decent person in years. Definitely not decent morally and barely as a human being most days. “They’ll get over it,” She lies. It wouldn’t be helpful to be honest and tell Ginny it was time to realise that blood means nothing.

Blood means nothing when it comes to power and it means nothing when it comes to family. Blood ties and the bonds of family simply sounded nice but, in the grand scheme of things, they held no importance. Blood didn’t mean your family had to love you and family could hurt you just as well as any stranger. Hari’s always been glad to have learned this fact early in life because now the Potters have no power over her.

It was just unfortunate that they would have to deal with the fallout of Ginny learning the same.

“There was another reason I wanted to walk with you, Ginny. Slytherin has rules. Very important ones, and us snakes are cautious against outsiders. Most of the house know each other outside of Hogwarts so those like us need to prove we can be trusted.” She admits and pretends to be more worried than she is to really sell the idea she’s looking out for the girl. Ginny would probably be more receptive if she thought Hari wanted to protect her.

“Why would we need to be trusted? I’m not hiding anything if they –” The redhead snaps.

Hari briefly considers, again, what sort of problems would come with finding a way to get rid of the girl instead. “Our brothers broke the rules a lot last year, didn’t they?” She cuts in. “Sometimes us snakes bend the rules. Someone might sneak a friend into the dorm, or they might have a little party. I like to go out on walks after curfew, personally. But no one wants to worry about their housemates turning them in.”

That settles Ginny a bit but mostly proves that it won’t be easy to get her to relax around the kind of talk in the common room. Much like her brother, Ginny looked ready to call the ministry herself if she heard so much as a single ‘mudblood’ – she would probably run straight to Adrian if she heard Hari speak parseltongue.

Luca was going to be a bastard to deal with this year if Hari can only entertain him when Ginny isn’t around. Her plans for the year had been left in tatters already. Hari can only hope Snape doesn’t react too terribly when she tells him to stop being so paranoid about the Dark Lord thing so she can make Azrael shut up. The potions master was likely to be her only confident for a while.

“I had to earn my place last year, you know, I didn’t always get along so well with my housemates. It’s down to us to prove ourselves and why the hat made us Slytherin. I don’t know why the hat saw a snake in you Ginny, but you need to figure it out and show it. Worrying about what your brothers think won’t help.”

Ginny watches her carefully, maybe finally realising what Hari’s trying to hint at or maybe finally understanding Hari was a lot more than Adrian’s twin. “What did _you_ do?”

“You can’t do what I did.” Hari snaps, too quick and too cold, spurred on by her pride.

Hari had put in time and planning, and her only guidance was a portrait that needed to be persuaded into deeming her worthy of his time. She spent years practicing even if she didn’t know for what exactly and even now what she wants is always second to what she needs. Hari needs to keep Slytherin in line and keep them all reminded of what she can do because snakes valued strength, even if she so desperately wanted to be able to relax and let her mask down in the same way she had with the Malfoys.

What Hari is and what she did cannot just be replicated by a girl without the stomach to call a spade a spade. Or, in this case, a mudblood a mudblood.

“Just repeating what I did won’t earn you anything. They will know, and they will laugh, and your position will be even worse. You need to do this yourself but, luckily for you, your blood status will help. The Weasley name doesn’t have much standing and your brother hasn’t given the name a good reputation among snakes, but it gives you a step above what I had.” Hari shakes her head and stops as they come to the common room, turning to look Ginny in the eye and tries to find a snake in her.

“I won’t help you with this. You’re alright, Ginny, and I don’t really want to see you miserable for the next couple of years. But I won’t be your guiding Slytherin. You need to fight on your own. I’m sure you have claws somewhere, the twins and that prefect of yours certainly do, but now you need to find your fangs. Keep your head up no matter what they say, especially your family, and don’t be afraid to bite back. If you go in like that then you might figure it out on your own.”

They beat the rest of the house in and Hari takes the time to point out some of her favourite bits in the common room. She keeps the tips over what seats were claimed by certain years to herself and she really doesn’t mention every year has their leader.

The best part of Slytherin was having to understand the complex hierarchy for yourself.

It would be cheating to let Ginny in on all that when Hari had stumbled into leading her class all on her own. Becoming the lead rather than just keeping their respect, after all, had been far from planned but worked out excellently.

(Hari hadn’t realised she became their de facto leader because most of the house respected her too, so Blaise had been forced to point it out around the time Goyle and Bulstrode offered to take care of a mouthy Gryffindor for her.

Slytherin house wasn’t so much a court as it was a kingdom. Each year had their own court and their own prince and everyone else would fall in line accordingly. Someone would always make themselves king or queen, usually fifth years and above, but Rosier had defied tradition and ousted the old king in her fourth year. According to all witnesses it had been spectacular.

Almost everyone was in agreement that Hari would be the next in line and succeed Rosier at the first opportunity.

Hari enjoyed, when she was bored and the common room was too quiet, thinking about her own little court.

Draco was her general, there was never a question about it, if she told him to set the quidditch pitch on fire then he would simply find a way to do so.

The trio that made up Crabbe, Goyle and Bulstrode formed the knights. They’d made that clear in the way they hung at the outside of her group yet remained ready to lend their services.

Daphne had a keen political mind and a disarming smile, able to create a plan of attack with only the smallest briefs, which made her the best for level-headed advice.

Theo and Tracey were soft in the way the rest of them weren’t, they could fight but Hari could never imagine happily sending them to duel. Spies, agents of intelligence, the moral heart of their court. That was the role that best suited them.

Blaise and Pansy…Hari doesn’t know how place them. They would never just take an order and go; they had never been the type to accept her word at face value. Those two were like her hands, there to advise her and never let her get overconfident.

Despite not directing her court of Slytherins into their place, Hari quite likes the way they ended up.)

Hari has to glare at Luca sternly, but he doesn’t seem to take the hint that she can’t talk to him right now. She knew it, he was going to be terrible this year. Thankfully, the rest of the house arrives soon after and her friends make it very clear they want an explanation for why she took off.

The introduction goes much the same as last year but, instead of leaving immediately, Snape calls her over. “You walked Weasley here.” He says simply.

Hari keeps her eyes ahead to watch the girl in question flounder among snakes. “I did,” She nods and imagines he’s not at all impressed.

“I assume you’re making _plans_.”

Hari resists a smirk. “Of course.”

“I hope they’re not nefarious in nature. Our unexpected snake may make your life inconvenient, but I expect you to be resourceful enough to manoeuvre.”

Hari stops resisting the urge to smirk but does keep her eyes ahead. “I would never try to actively harm my housemates, Professor.” She lies with false innocence despite knowing he has seen the proof to the contrary. “I was simply guiding Ginevra on how to be the right sort. No one wants a Weasel in the house.”

Snakes were excellent pest control.

Having been left with only the ability to watch on cautiously, Snape sighs and leaves. Pansy immediately swoops in to kidnap Hari up to their dorm for the purebloods version of the Spanish Inquisition.

“Why did you abandon us for a Weasel?” Pansy demands as soon as the door closes behind them and Tracey sits on her bed. “You were very quick to abandon us.” The other half-blood agrees.

Hari locates her trunk and bed to search for her pyjamas. “I was simply doing a nice thing and checking how our newest snake feels.” Narcissa had gone behind her back and also bought some nicer bedclothes along with the robes without asking, simply leaving them for Hari to find one night so there was no chance of protest.

“Yeah, and I have a crush on Longbottom.” Pansy counters, utterly unimpressed and expectant at the same time.

Hari throws her a wicked grin. “Didn’t know blond and plump was your type, but I’m sure you can teach him some things.”

A pillow sails her way, but she easily dodges and laughs. Retrieving it, she fiddles with the thing and considers teasing her friends any further. “She’s insecure. Probably worse now she’s surrounded by prim purebloods. Worried about what her family will think, but she’s headstrong so it’s not going to be easy. It might be simpler to get her onside if her family turns on her, but I doubt they will. The Potters will probably save the day and use me to insist not all Slytherins are bad.”

Maybe she was a little too heartless in hoping the Weasleys reacted terribly, but her friends were used to it.

“Have they met you? You’re positively monstrous before breakfast.” Tracey says earnestly, with big brown eyes on show, as if that would save her from Hari’s ire.

Damn it, she might be onto something there. Hari frowns at her, “Et tu, Brute?”

“If anyone gets to point out that you’re terrible in the morning then it’s us.” Pansy butts in chidingly. Hari redirects her frown. “But really, have they met you? We know you’re great, but that’s because we can appreciate the value in making grown men cry. I don’t think they’d agree.”

Hari returns Pansy’s pillow, “I knew you just used me for my power.” The pillow hits the pureblood right in the face.

“I like you for your personality, Hari.” Tracey says with the smallest of smirks.

“And that’s why you’re my favourite.” Hari replies but also eyes the half-blood cautiously.

“…And your talents with braiding hair. So, can you do mine?”

Pansy cackles and closes the bathroom door just as another pillow flies her way.

.

A howler arrives to Gryffindor at breakfast and that really helps wake Hari up.

Adrian and Ron had finally arrived at some point after the feast but between the howler and Lily Potter’s palpable disapproval, it was clear they had done something very wrong. By the end of breakfast everyone knows the two stole, or borrowed depending on who was telling it, a flying car and nearly killed the Whomping Willow.

Hari wishes Snape hadn’t banned her from coffee because she really could use some.

Ron keeps glaring at her and then glancing to where Ginny sits staring rather unhappily at a letter in a never-ending loop. Hari does her best not to look too pleased with this development because she really wants to feel secure in her own common room without silencing spells.

Finally receiving their schedules, Theo nearly drowns himself at the sight of Transfiguration, Herbology, History of Magic and DADA in one day. His desire to drown himself is renewed when Hari reminds them that their free before lunch will be spent working on strategy in the dungeons.

The abandoned potions classroom isn’t the cosiest and it’s nowhere near the standard of their actual common room, but it was the place least likely to get them interrupted. Hari still puts up a silencing charm while she shares what she knows about Ginny.

“I don’t think we could find anything to blackmail her with.” Blaise admits so Draco immediately begins to investigate that course of action.

“What if we got her to sign something promising secrecy! It’d be too late by the time she realised why we want it so bad.” Tracey suggests, nearly falling off her chair in her excitement.

Hari considers it. “Promising, but a last resort. She won’t sign anything unless she really feels isolated so we could be waiting a while.” She nods and looks to Daphne who immediately understands to ask her father for help with a contract.

“Could we trick her into using a dark spell? We’d have something over her then.” Draco suggests, still going down the blackmail route.

Pansy snorts. “She’d sooner set those demon twins on us. Speaking of the devil…”

Hari glances behind her to find the twins and brings down the spell. “I didn’t try to get your sister in Slytherin.” She reminds them, watching them carefully. Having the twins out for revenge would be a nuisance at best.

“The hat told us we could be Slytherin.” Inch Taller shares a second later, though he still looks a touch menacing.

“Must’ve decided Ginny was like us.” Four Freckles continues with no small amount of pride.

The Slytherins all take a moment of silence to imagine the twins in Slytherin and shudder. “I believe it,” Theo declares and the rest of them nod along in agreement. It wasn’t hard to imagine with some of the stories about just how sneaky the duo were.

Hari puts on her best imitation of their younger brother. “So, if you’re not here for revenge over me corrupting your sister with my evil snake-ness then why are you?”

The twins grin at each other. “Speaking of dear Ronikins.” Inch taller begins and Hari groans.

“Careful of him, he ranted for half the night.”

Hari slumps in her seat.

“No offence but we didn’t really want a Weasley in our house either.” Pansy frowns and gestures to their current seating arrangement.

“Why’s _that_?” Both twins ask. Their eyes catch the light rather threateningly and Hari absolutely believes they could have been excellent snakes.

“We can’t plot world domination with her around.” Hari drawls in reply, still slumped uncomfortably in her seat.

The twins look at her like they suspect she’s completely honest. “Gin’s no snitch. She helps us hide our pranks all the time.” Four Freckles informs them, crossing his arms, and putting on a show of offence. Ginny, Hari thinks, most definitely would snitch on half the things she heard in the Slytherin common room. “But we wanna make sure you’re watching out for her.” Four Freckles continues.

Inch Taller nods in agreement. “She’s our little sister. You better keep an eye on her, Potter.”

Hari scowls at them, the same cold glare she reserved for anyone who used that name. “I gave her some pointers but that’s all I’m going to do. It’s her job to make friends, Weasleys, I’m not guiding your lost lamb.”

Well, she _was_. Just not in the way the Weasleys want. Ginny hasn’t wronged her in any way, but Hari would sooner guide the lost Weasley lamb to the oven that put herself at risk.

“Snakes protect each other. I don’t know how you Gryffindors do things but us Slytherins look after our own.” Daphne says, drawing the twin’s attention. It seems to sate them and their attempts at threatening a bunch of snakes because they finally leave. Hari puts the silencing charm back up. “Ease up, Hari, they’re just protecting their sister. Siblings are like that.”

Most of the group nods at that, even the only children like Draco, Pansy and Blaise, because most of them have relationships that were close enough. Hari stares at them all blankly.

From the corner of her eye, she notices Blaise grinning far too wide for her comfort. “Think of it this way. It’s the same way you protect Tracey.” He points out so confidently that it makes it all the better when she throws her Transfiguration textbook at him.

The size of it topples his chair.

.

Fourth period History of Magic with Binns is so terribly dull that, as usual, half her classmates fall asleep. It was hard for even Hari to stay engaged by a ghost who never stops droning on.

Seeing as they hadn’t decided on a decent strategy with which to tackle Ginny, Hari decides to make use of both the class and Ginny’s gift. Pretending to listen, Hari lists their strategies in the hopes of getting an inspired idea but mostly just lists various forms of murder.

When Hari glances back down from the board, however, there is not a trace of ink. Then, slowly, a beautifully scrawled ‘ _Hello_ ’ appears on the page.

Hari wonders when books started talking back and thinks it may be a step too far from mirrors that liked to insult you.

‘ _Hello_.’ She writes carefully and looks back to Binns lecture to avoid the risk of seeming too inattentive.

‘ _How did you come across my diary?_ ’ is written when she looks back down again.

Hari reflects on her initial assumption someone had just sold on their unused diary. ‘ _I was gifted it._ ’ She writes back truthfully because she won’t gain anything by lying in this case. ‘ _Someone got it in Diagon and gave it to me._ ’ She explains further when she doesn’t get an immediate reply.

‘ _I don’t know how it ended up there._ ’ The diary finally replies. ‘ _No ones written in me for quite some time. My names Tom Riddle, may I ask who you are?_ ’

Hari thinks it over, she even thinks back to the stories she read about the fae and the power of a name, and she wonders if there might be a danger in giving him hers.

‘ _I only wonder who I’m talking to. May I ask what year it is instead?_ ’ _Tom_ writes when she doesn’t reply, and Hari decides to take a risk.

How dangerous could a diary be?

‘ _It’s 1992, the school term at Hogwarts just started._ ’ She watches the ink settle into the page before dipping her quill into the ink pot again. ‘ _My names Harini Gerard, as well, but I prefer Hari._ ’

Hari nudges Blaise into looking somewhat awake just in time for one of Binns semi-regular checks on the class.

‘ _It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harini. I haven’t had someone to talk to in some time_.’

Was it too ridiculous to threaten a talking book? She glares at the paper like the enchantment writing to her might sense her displeasure.

‘ _Gerard isn’t a wizarding name of my day._ ’ The scrawl appears and Hari rushes to write back, ‘ _And neither is Riddle today._ ’ She wonders if her reply is even legible.

She could swear that the diary radiates its annoyance the moment her reply soaks in, like she’s pissed off whatever spell had been cast on it by returning it’s own question.

The diary doesn’t reply for so long she thinks the thing is pouting. Throwing a tantrum and ignoring her for playing its own game. But five minutes of listening to Binns drone on later more words appear.

‘ _My apologies._ ’ Appears first, slightly slanted as though he too hurried to write. ‘ _I was merely curious. Harini isn’t a British name._ ’ Follows just under it.

Hari wonders just how old the diary is and if she’s going to have to set a bigoted old enchantment on fire.

‘ _My father’s Indian._ ’ She writes back carefully and adds, before _Tom_ can think he has the upper hand, ‘ _His family name isn’t Gerard._ ’ She divides her attention between the diary and Binns, keeping an eye on the book so she doesn’t miss a reply because she doesn’t know how long each message will last for.

‘ _My father was Vietnamese_.’ Appears slowly and Hari is suddenly very sure the diary is trying to build up a common ground.

‘ _My class is ending soon,_ ’ She lies, rushing her writing to really sell the sudden hurry. ‘ _I need to go._ ’ Hari snaps the diary closed because she can’t play its game when it only has half her attention. Hari ignores the diary, and she’s sure the cursed thing is dreadfully unhappy about it, for the rest of class and sets her mind on the horrors of DADA with Gryffindor.

Half the Gryffindors are already in DADA, including Adrian and his friends, when they arrive and Ron glares at her every now and then. Every time he does, however, Adrian glares at him too. It’s almost funny watching the two bicker.

Hari sits with Daphne and Pansy for the sole purpose of having someone else to complain about Lockhart with. Both girls had a vicious wit and might just make the class fun. In fact, the moment their terrible excuse for a teacher brings up his Order of Merlin, Daphne whispers about how it was long rumoured he made some deals to get it in the first place.

They all keep their eyes ahead and let him think their smiles were for him. She’s sure he’s not a former Slytherin if he can’t even recognise how close he is to being torn apart by Pansy’s well-manicured nails.

She almost regrets reading his books in the first place. Looking over the quiz he gives out, not even one question was even about the creatures he claimed to fight. “We’re not trying to get this right, are we?” Hari whispers and both girls smirk at her.

Half an hour later, all three of them finished up, they compare their answers and proudly hand them back. From the look of it, Blaise had refused to answer any at all and Draco had used his to get creative and doodle what might just be Lockhart getting eaten by a troll. Hari can’t quite tell but thinks it was probably a waste of a good bit of art to hand it back.

Lockhart glances up unhappily quite a few times when he flicks through the tests, mostly frowning at the Slytherins who no doubt found a hundred different ways to tear him apart as politely as possible.

Hari nearly bursts into laughter, doing her very best at hiding behind a braid, when she notices how interested Granger was in the fraud. Pansy has to elbow her into sitting up straight though the pureblood finds it equally hilarious. The muggleborn seemed like she had such better taste last year.

Their brief source of amusement is ruined when Lockhart brings out pixies.

Not an idiot, Hari revises, an idiot might actually have good intentions. Lucius was a governor, wasn’t he? Maybe she could ask if Hogwarts did literally any check on staff before hiring them. Pixies weren’t terrifying and they weren’t the most dangerous creatures but anyone with a brain should know they shouldn’t be let free in a class of twelve-year-olds.

Hari takes her wand in hand, carefully holding the curved end and running her thumb over the rough texture, and all the Slytherins look to each other.

“I call for a strategic retreat.” Draco says solemnly and Hari very quickly nods.

“Snape won’t let him dock us points.” Tracey adds in, half under the table, holding her wand to her chest.

“Professor Snape,” Hari replies, hexing a pixie who tries to grab one of her braids. “Is going to have his head when he hears this.”

The Slytherins, without waiting for the bell or sparing a thought for their fallen rivals, run for the door.

.

Hari ignores the diary all the way through supper before making an excuse to slip away. She claims she’s not hungry (she’s not) and really needs some time alone to think (she does) and takes off to let them form their own conclusions.

Taking the time to find a solitary corner of the library so she won’t be disturbed, she sits down and lays out the diary. ‘ _Good evening._ ’ She writes and sits back to wait.

‘ _Was your class really over?_ ’ The diary questions.

Hari immediately puts her quill to paper. ‘ _Are you always so overt?_ ’

The ink sinks into the paper slower than usual. The reply takes a moment to come too but slowly a simple, ‘ _Slytherin?_ ’ appears dripping with amusement.

‘ _I could pass you on to a Gryffindor if you want something easier, Tom._ ’ Hari thinks, as she watches the words sink in, that she’s playing with fire.

Whatever enchantment was on this book, it wanted her to talk to it and, with the overt attempt at emotional manipulation in history, she should probably go set it on fire. She should take the diary and go feed it to the giant squid. Maybe take it to Snape and ask him to look for anything dangerous.

Hari really shouldn’t give it exactly what it wants.

‘ _I prefer talking to another snake, Harini._ ’ Comes back accompanied, a moment later, with an almost lazily written. ‘ _Would you like to make a deal?_ ’

This wasn’t just playing with fire, no, this was a pyromaniac setting their house on fire for a hit. Hannah Jones, six years older but always fun to watch, once set her room at Wools on fire and claimed she just wanted to brighten the place up. They were told Hannah was a warning, that they shouldn’t follow her lead, because for all it was fun at first people always got hurt by the end.

Hari dips her quill in again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hari: 💕💕 Poison 💕💕  
> Tom: ...Did you...Did you just circle ways to unalive people with hearts.  
> Hari: 💕🔪 Broom Incident 🔪💕
> 
> Alternately, Hari is currently planning crimes. Tom is planning war crimes. Dumbledore is actively working on hate crimes. 
> 
> But please know Hari looked back at Adrian being chased by pixies and gave him a thumbs up on the way out.


	11. Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Tom Riddle, bastard extraordinaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for disappearing for two weeks! I didn't feel well a lot of last week and while I'm feeling better now, it might become the new thing for the update schedule to be every two weeks just because uni is getting hard and I'm going back to work next month. I'm going to dedicate some time this weekend to working on the next few chapters and getting ahead again. It's also very likely chapters from now on will usually be between 4000-6000 words with a few exceptions just because I was combining events in first year to get through it fast and second year will be a lot slower. 
> 
> I've also adjusted the timeline slightly because JKR forgot how schools work. I checked the date in 1992 and term started midweek so...having that Saturday start up quidditch practice is dumb. Also all teams have try-outs every year because?? Maybe someone's gotten worse over the summer?? Maybe a new student who's excellent can try out now???? So anyway the events of the first Saturday back in the book? Moved back a week. That felt important to me and idk why lmao. 
> 
> I've kept yall long enough so ! I don't think there's any warnings this chapter. I have no beta and what is canon if not hate preserving?

The deal _Tom_ proposed was simple really, and Hari had spent the rest of the week enjoying the benefits. She would update him on the decades he missed, and, in return, he would offer any advice or suggestion he could to her research. So, every night she makes an excuse to get some time alone and then finds an isolated spot in the castle to write to Tom without interruption. Her housemates and friends hopefully just assume she needs space without the fear of any spying from their new snake.

Ginny, too, didn’t seem to be faring well. She was mostly courteous with her yearmates but kept stumbling through the complexities of Slytherin house like a giant would barge through the forbidden forest. Hari might actually need to lend her a hand soon because, at this rate, she might never be able to enjoy her own common room again.

What was important on this Saturday night, having spent the morning as moral support for Draco at quidditch try-outs, was that Tom had suggested a way they could speak more directly. This was most definitely a risk, finding somewhere hidden away where no one else would see her, but Tom hadn’t posed any actual danger yet.

Hari sits in the Astronomy tower because she knows it should be empty for a few hours yet and balances the diary on her knees before putting quill to parchment.

‘ _I found a spot in the Astronomy tower._ ’

A box forms in the middle of the page and it reminds Hari a little of the ancient TV that sat in Wool’s playroom. When Tom doesn’t write back, she slowly raises that box to her eye and is glad no one can see how stupid she might look in the process.

The diary pulls her in, and Hari feels rather like she did in the floo, except this time she also feels rather like she’s on fire, and she’s suddenly thrown onto stone flooring. At least she didn’t break her nose this time.

A hand waits in front of her face when she looks up and she grudgingly takes it to let him help her up. “You could have warned me,” She huffs and brushes down her uniform whilst watching him from the corner of her eye.

Tom Riddle is tall, so tall he towers over her despite being only a few years older than her in this form, and every part of him reflects it from long limbs all the way down to long fingers. Tom, unexpectedly, is handsome in a way that is always emphasised in fairy tales – striking features, sharp cheekbones, and angular brown eyes. Tom embodies ‘ _tall, dark, and handsome_ ’ in a way that makes her very sure he is proud of his looks in a way that Hari never has been. It shows in the way his wavy brown hair is perfectly placed and his older uniform seemed averse to appearing askew.

More importantly, Hari is suddenly very sure Tom was who she saw in her vision last Yule. She knows it in the same way she knows his smile is genuine, but it is not for simply seeing her.

“I’ve never invited anyone in before.” He replies and leans over to tuck a part of her braid that came loose behind her ear.

Hari immediately turns on her heel to take in her surroundings and put herself out of reach. “This was the common room in your day then?” She says pointedly. The Slytherin common room hasn’t changed much since the 40s but the colours are all too pigmented, too bright and vivid in a way that constantly reminds her that none of it is real. Yet none of it changes the fact that the common room here still feels just as welcoming as it does in real life, even if this version isn’t quite as comfortable.

Hari glances over her shoulder at him. “It’s true, things do get better as they age,” She smirks and sits on one of the couches without waiting for an invitation.

“Ah, but the classics are always the best.” Tom counters and sits right next to her.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the original that’s always the best. Who has time for the classics these days?” She replies and crosses her legs at the ankle. “Oh, Luca’s still here. Was he as loud in your day?” Hari then asks, very carefully.

To his credit, Tom doesn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. “Who’s Luca?” He counters with too little interest for it to be real.

Hari gestures to the still memory of the annoying portrait. “The snake portrait,” She says bluntly and hopes to get a reaction out of him.

“How can a portrait be loud, Harini?” Tom asks but meets her gaze directly. The bastard that he was, he continued to ignore her preference and refer to her by her actual name. He’s also daring her to call him out first because everything seemed to be a game with him.

It was exhausting.

“Most of them are. Luca’s just especially loud towards parselmouths.” Hari cuts this particular game short just to disappoint him. “And you _are_ a parselmouth, aren’t you Tom? He’s told me all about a Slytherin some forty years ago who spoke to him and shared a few Vietnamese spells. It would be odd if that wasn’t you.”

Tom leans into the other corner of the couch, crossing his legs at the knee, and doesn’t look affected at all. “What a coincidence,” He draws out the word, looking entirely like he’s a step ahead of her whilst still playing catch up. Hari doesn’t know how he manages it.

“It is curious, isn’t it? That I somehow came across your diary.” She points out and tilts her head, readjusting herself to face him.

His lips quirk up in a smirk. “Fate, Harini, works in some strange ways. It wouldn’t be the first time she was recorded to intervene. It’s just a question of why.” Tom argues. It’s so cliché that she almost gags, not helped by the fact she’s never liked the idea of fate controlling her actions, so she doesn’t hide the way she rolls her eyes. “Much like the question of _why_ she gave you that scar.”

He’s suddenly so much closer, having struck like a snake, and he moves with a feline grace as he reaches out those long fingers to trace her scar. Hari grabs his wrist and pulls it away without a word. “It’s an interesting scar, Harini. You can’t expect me not to be interested.” Tom scoffs and wrenches his wrist free.

“A dark lord attempted to kill my twin, failed, and I was left with a mysterious scar no one understands.” Hari explains, voice flat, but sees a flash of surprise in dark brown eyes. Tom, however, is a perfect Slytherin and covers it up faster than it was ever there.

Tom traces her scar again. She doesn’t force him away this time. “But you weren’t targeted?” He asks softly, curiosity clear in his voice, like he’s fascinated by the stupid thing.

“It’s great that you’re so interested in the pinnacle of my existence, there’s truly nothing better to talk about than my brother, so I’ll pass you onto him.” Hari snaps irritably, and she hates just how much she’s enjoyed talking to someone who knew nothing of the Potters and her association with them.

When she tries to turn away, Tom is very suddenly holding her jaw in those long fingers with his face uncomfortably close. “You are honestly the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen, Harini.” He breathes, eyes flitting over her face, and lets her go.

Hari presses herself further into the couch to put distance between them. “I wasn’t targeted, no. They thought the scar meant he took my magic somehow and sent me away, only to apparently be quite surprised when I arrived at Hogwarts last year.” She explains, a little uneasy with the way he was studying her.

“They?” Tom echoes, question clear, and Hari lets a little of her frustration show.

“Dumbledore, the Potters, all of magical Britain.” _Dumbledore’s band of sycophants who would never dare question his judgement_.

Hari hopes she never becomes like that, surrounded by people who think she hung the moon and never question her actions. She might not have appreciated her friends only a year earlier and she may not always have patience for them now, but they still provide her with another perspective and steady ground to walk on.

When the day comes for her to really change the world, she’s going to purge the ministry of those self-obsessed sheep right after she dances on Dumbledore’s grave. She’ll speed up his clock herself if he isn’t dead by the time she graduates, and maybe even before then.

Tom chuckles, leaning back and out of her space, startling her out of her own head. “Still with us?” He says but seems a little distracted himself. “Potters? I didn’t attend school with any, but I remember hearing a little about them. Purebloods, excluded from the sacred twenty-eight because of their anti-colonialism stance.”

Hari doesn’t have to fake her lack of emotion because the Potter family history doesn’t mean much to her. She cares more for her own stupid slip up in letting go of that bit of information. “Wouldn’t know, it’s one of the few things I haven’t researched.” She smooths her skirt down out of habit but mostly to keep her hands busy.

It was a strange feeling to be under the full force of Tom’s undivided attention, it even makes her squirm because it’s rather like the memory of a boy is trying to pick her apart and understand her. “One of the downfalls of pride, I guess. I don’t want anything of them, be it resources or heritage. But I do know they stopped being purebloods when my father married a muggleborn.”

Emerald eyes meet brown when she glances up and – hadn’t her vision shown her fiery red eyes at Yule? Her vision was of Tom, Hari knows this by the sharp cheekbones and obsessively combed hair she caught flashes of. But she hadn’t seen him exactly as he is here because she is sure of skin so pale it was almost translucent and hellfire eyes.

Maybe, underneath the spell that trapped this ghost inside like a snapshot in time, that was his true nature?

There’s an odd smile on Tom’s lips. It’s like if she just learned to read it, to read him, she could learn all of his sins just by studying the curve of his mouth. “I was the same. There was nothing my family could give me that I couldn’t just take.” His eyes trace her scar again, and Hari really doesn’t understand why he’s quite so fascinated by it. No wixen ever was. “I punished them for it, eventually, and I could teach you to do the same.”

It takes her a half second to realise he spoke in parseltongue, and Hari is a little ashamed to admit she had almost forgotten how this conversation started since he started steering it. “How do I leave again?” She asks then, jumping to her feet, a little annoyed that she doesn’t even tower over him when he remains seated.

“When will we do this again?” He counters, sitting up straight himself but not looking particularly worried she won’t come back.

Hari really doesn’t like how confident he is. “That depends on what you can actually teach me.” She takes a step back so he can’t grab her again because he’s proven he didn’t care for her permission before touching her. “You’re a _classic_ , Tom, so maybe everything you can teach me I’ve already learned.”

Not true, they both know it, there are still so many spells Luca hasn’t taught her, and she has the source right here. But it would also be terribly stupid for her to just agree to come back.

Tom flashes his fangs. “I know they haven’t taught you about parselmouths.” He points out and Hari shrugs, doing her very best to hide just how much she wants to be able to talk to another parselmouth. Being able to learn from another was an opportunity she wouldn’t get again unless she left Britain and Luca could only help so much. “And, since Dumbledore is still around, I know nothing less than neutral is being taught at Hogwarts. You need me, Harini, if you want to catch up to the purebloods.”

He raises one hand to shake. His long fingers reach out like the legs of a spider that might just drag her in and consume her if she puts herself within reach. Tom was a trap, the web and the spider both, and she’s not sure what the end point is.

“Another deal. What are the terms of this one?” She asks, folding her arms over her chest in the effort to seem impatient. She probably hasn’t been here long, but it was still awfully close to curfew and she’s not sure she can stand to remain the sole point of his attention.

And, most obviously, she doesn’t trust Tom Riddle to dare stay long enough to get comfortable.

Tom is on his feet again, towering over her, but his hand remains in place. “Come here once a week, more if you want, and I will teach you what they won’t. The true benefits of being a parselmouth, and the dark spells no one else will overhear.” He smiles and, despite a slight dimple in his left cheek, it still seems wicked.

This was probably like making a deal with the devil. “On top of our other deal?” She guesses, eyeing his unwavering hand.

“Obviously. I’d have too much time on my hands if you didn’t write.”

It would be easy enough to get away on a regular basis now the snakes were all fleeing the nest, and she really does need to start expanding her arsenal to include the same spells and counter curses the purebloods had.

Tom’s hand is strangely warm when she takes it, and she cannot help but think this might be the step to damnation the matron liked to preach about.

.

Tracey and Daphne flank Hari as they all fill the seats around Ginny in the unusually empty common room. Pansy and Draco were working on making one of the abandoned classrooms more comfortable because both purebloods refused to lower their standards for even an hour a day. They both claimed they had already set the bar on the ground when it came to most of the castle and the standards for teaching, so they refused to dig any lower.

Ginny looks a little scared and, for once, Hari doesn’t blame her because she had tried very hard to pick her least intimidating friends. An impossible task. Tracey and Theo were the obvious first choice, but Theo came off as aloof to anyone who didn’t know him, so he was quickly counted out. Pansy was never in the question for obvious reasons, and Draco would almost definitely start insulting the entire Weasley family.

Blaise was never in consideration because Hari had put him in time out for insisting he was going to get her dance to with him at the Malfoy’s Yule ball. If he didn’t want to be ignored, then he shouldn’t have spent the day teasing her.

Daphne, the diplomat in training that she was, had been the only other option despite embodying the word intimidating.

Ginny looks them all over slowly and sits up straighter. “Are you recruiting for a girl gang?”

Tracey laughs quietly.

“Probably more accurate to call it a cult.” Daphne corrects.

Hari consciously reminds herself that she does not want sycophants. “How are you getting on?” She asks and Ginny rolls her eyes. That feels a little rude when Hari was putting in an effort to be nice. She hasn’t even talked to her twin in the last week, besides the unpleasant experience where he jumped out on her to give her the promised birthday gift, but here she was making time for Ginny.

(The gift was a book of pictures. Baby pictures, to be accurate. Specifically, baby pictures of herself and Adrian. Tracey had insisted that Hari at least try to look through it but on the third page was a photo including the same two men who visited the castle to argue with the Potters the previous year.

In effect tying the strange Yule gift, her absent godfather, and the strangers all together with a bow. Which meant they had been close enough to talk to her but hadn’t. Once again, they chose not to actually talk to her.

Hari set the album on fire but, because the Potters were the bane of her life, there were charms on the damn thing. Tracey held her back from tossing it from the Astronomy tower and Pansy hid it somewhere in her trunk.

A bit of an overreaction if you asked her, to go so far to protect a stupid scrapbook.)

“Rosier asked me that too.”

Hari wonders if Rosier had felt more or less merciful than she does because it would be very helpful if Rosier got rid of the surprise snake while Snape was watching Hari.

“You don’t look like you’re making friends is all.” Tracey says and, damn her, she sounds genuinely concerned. Knowing the half-blood, she probably was too.

Ginny wasn’t afraid of biting back against her housemates but that was all she seemed to do. “Why would I want to be friends with a bunch of blood supremacists? No offence.”

Daphne’s face twists a little, probably insulted, but Tracey doesn’t look especially happy either. “Who said all Slytherins are blood supremacists?” Daphne demands, and Ginny looks a little cowed. Unfortunately, the pureblood wasn’t one to back off of weak prey and Hari refuses to jump in the way. “Hari and Tracey are both half-bloods and I won’t name names but there are at least five members of this house with creature ancestry.” Daphne doesn’t let up, blond hair framing her glare so well that even Hari admits the girl is a little scary.

“I – well – everyone knows there’s a muggleborn prejudice in Slytherin.” Ginny protests and, Hari knows, she’s not technically wrong. She’s just wrong about all the reasons why, but they can work on that later.

“There are some idiots in this house, yes, but there’s a lot of idiots in other houses too. Ravenclaw has a few students who feel the same way. You must have seen the anti-Slytherin bias by now, and muggleborns and half-bloods can be foul too – half of the insults Blaise gets are over his skin when his personality is right there – so do you refuse to be friends with all of them?”

Having knights was incredibly useful when other students tried to insult her friends. Just three days ago, Hari had Millicent sneak something into a Ravenclaw’s potion to make it explode. The boy lost his eyebrows and might have hopefully learned a lesson. Hari had been bluntly honest with Professor Snape when he kept her at the end of class, asking if he would rather she trip them up on the stairs rather than harmlessly ruin their potion in a controlled environment the next time they said something so foul.

Snape insisted she was meant to come tell him rather than just going straight to violence, but he also hadn’t punished her for it, so Hari decided not to tell him about the times she personally dealt with mouthy Gryffindors. It seemed to put him in a better mood and keep his stress levels down when she didn’t share all the details, so it quickly became one of their traditions.

She keeps things from him for his own good, so he doesn’t need to report to the infirmary every day, just like how she rarely listens to him and he comes to check her cup at breakfast.

Ginny flounders for a moment, trying to think of what to say, and Tracey stands up abruptly. “If all Slytherins are blood supremacists, and you’re a pureblood too, then why are you the exception?” The redhead stares after the girl.

“Don’t you dare claim Hari and Tracey are exceptions either – did you ever consider the idea you’re judging people you don’t actually know?” Daphne says before Hari can even open her mouth.

Ginny quickly makes a retreat to her dorm.

Hari looks between the empty seats for a moment. “Go to the Malfoy’s Yule ball with me?”

The blond laughs. “What if I’m already going with Pansy?”

She raises her eyebrows because in what world would Pansy Parkinson not declare her date to the entire common room, let alone her dormmates? “We both know she and Draco are still using each other to ward off marriage contracts.”

Both the Malfoys and the Parkinsons apparently knew it too, but everyone was letting the pair think they were pulling off a successful ruse while still telling everyone they considered one another siblings.

“You just want to annoy Blaise,” Daphne shakes her head but there is a distinct grin on her face.

Hari scoffs. “You _love_ annoying Blaise.”

It takes less than a minute for them both to burst into quiet laughter. _Poor Blaise_ , but maybe he wouldn’t try to tease her about how boring the ball was next year.

“To annoying Blaise.”

“To annoying Blaise.”

.

Hari jumps into her favourite chair in Snape’s office with a little more enthusiasm than usual. Her favourite chair also happens to be the only chair but that doesn’t feel too important.

“You can’t keep walking out of Lockhart’s classes.” Snape says without looking up from his essays.

“I’ll stop leaving when he finally starts teaching.”

In little over a week, she had walked out of every last DADA class before the end because he was more useless than a stuttering wraith. He also found a way to ruin each class and provide a handy reason to run without getting detention.

“And I can’t keep an eye on both you and Rosier to make sure you aren’t trying to harm the Weasley girl.”

Hari shrugs because she doesn’t have an answer for that. She wasn’t planning any immediate harm, but she also can’t control Rosier. Snape was a Slytherin once, he just has to accept they would deal with the problem in whatever way presented itself first.

“You clearly want to tell me about something, Gerard, so get on with it.” He sighs then, rubbing his temples. That’s definitely unfair, she hasn’t shared anything yet to give him anything close to a headache.

“I’ve finally started to understand your tattoo.” Snape startles so suddenly that he knocks a pile of papers to the ground. “Azazel, the snake on your arm, has been quiet so far this year too but it was only after talking to Lord Malfoy this summer I started to get it.” She continues.

He doesn’t even move to gather the papers. “…The snake…” Snape says slowly, eyes darting to his arm. Hari nods. “How long have you known about it?” He demands suddenly, voice rising.

Hari isn’t sure of why he’s reacting so differently to Lucius. “Since a little after Yule break. I heard him in class sometimes, but small snakes get into the castle occasionally, they’re drawn by the warming charms, so I didn’t know he was coming from you for a while.” She explains as simply as she can because she’s trying to understand his reaction.

It doesn’t seem to help. “And you never thought to mention it?” Snape questions, lowering his voice just enough someone might not hear them from down the corridor.

“I didn’t think it was important. I was putting together some theories on whether he was spying on you or not and I was going to bring it up when I knew more.”

The potions master has never been truly angry with her. Not when she threatened the house elves and not when she ignored him and not even when she got very close to the line of hurting her housemates. But Hari thinks he might be angry with her now because his scowl was different to the one he often wore.

Snape attempts to say something four times, she knows because she counts each time her opens his mouth but shakes his head without saying anything, before he finally finds his words. “Leave. Back to the common room now.”

Hari knew he might not be happy with her because, from what she observed with the Malfoys, the Dark Lord was a difficult subject. “I’ll see you next week, sir.”

“No, you won’t.” He snaps immediately before drawing a breath. “Miss Gerard, I think it’s time we return to a typical student-teacher dynamic. No more visits to talk or share your research.” He says then in much the same way some of the staff at Wool’s forced themselves to speak very calmly when they were very angry as to not scare the younger kids.

Hari frowns. “Why? Lord Malfoy was fine when I told him I could hear them.” She asks.

Snape turns to gather the spilled papers. “My obligation to you is to be there for your academic concerns and provide help with school related issues. Coming to me with whatever inane topic is on your mind is no part of that.” He taps the papers with his wand to properly organise them. “I expect you to go to the infirmary on Halloween to collect a calming draught and I suggest no more visits to my office out of teaching hours. Maybe then you might learn that your actions have consequences, and you cannot simply do whatever you want.”

Hari is half tempted to point out that she knows actions have consequences and she’s known that for a very long time. She learned that before she could even really remember and doing what she wanted hasn’t been something she could afford since survival became her top priority. Why would she tell him about Azazel when she wasn’t sure of what he was herself and saying something in front of an ever-present entity could have had terrible consequences all because she got ahead of herself.

But Snape said no more of her inane topics, so she stands up instead. “Goodnight, sir.”

Outside of his office, Hari stops herself before turning for the common room. No one would expect her back for at least an hour and there was no reason to break her tradition of not listening to him. She turns the other way to find one of the old classrooms instead and, upon finding one with desks and seats, she pulls the diary from her bag.

‘ _Are you busy?_ ’ She writes with the smallest of smirks, and she’s sure Tom might groan inside the diary if that wasn’t undignified.

‘ _I’ve got my hands full teaching the most frustrating second year._ ’ Appears and she enjoys her ability to annoy him. The box that pulled her in last time forms a few seconds later.

Maybe Tom would have some better suggestions about the Ginny conundrum, or at the very least have a spell she could practice to keep her mind busy. At the very least, Tom had never called the things she shared with him ‘ _inane_ ’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hari: That's my emotional support grease bucket!  
> Snape: *yells at her*  
> Hari, turning to Tom: That's my emotional support psychopath!
> 
> My final note! I personally hate when fics just dismiss there being any prejudice besides blood status in HP. There are exceptions, like lgbts not wanting to have to write homophobia in their comfort fics, but the blanket "wizarding world has no problems!" rubs me wrong. Like the muggleborns and half-bloods aren't necessarily all good? 
> 
> Also I'm very attached to wizarding politics being very connected to muggle politics and a lot of the old British purebloods making their money off the empire and colonialism. The Potter family have been there since the 1800s reminding them of their crimes. My lore doc goes on and on about the effect of it drawing so many purebloods from other countries lmao.


End file.
